Sunflowers Know, We Once Were Wild...

 A painting of a sky that never stayed one color. A patch of sunflowers that never stopped facing the light. Houses that held memories and leaves that kept growing even when we weren’t looking.

This piece began with a brushstroke of nostalgia: blue melting into orange skies, like the kind that used to signal playtime was almost over, but not yet. The houses? They’re not just buildings. They’re echoes of laughter in stairwells, of mangoes eaten too fast, of stories whispered under blankets. The sunflowers in the foreground? They’ve always meant joy to me pure, golden, untamed. And the leaves? They’re time. They’ve seen it all change.

The poem grew from there: a reflection of how childhood looked then… and how it flickers now through screens and scrolls.

 Sunflowers Know, 

                We Once Were Wild... 

Remember the days of endless play, 

When laughter was constant, come what may? 

The world was bright, so full of wonder! 

Each day a new spell we’d all fall under. 

Now, we’re lost in screens that glow so bright, 

Where the sun’s forgotten, replaced by artificial light. 

Adventures traded for virtual lands, 

And fun shaped by gadgets, not by our hands. 

Back then, childhood was a world so wide, 

Days spent outside, with no screens to guide, 

With dirt on our hands and dreams in the air, 

Hide-and-seek games, running everywhere. 

The sound of ice cream carts ringing near, 

Running with friends, filled with cheer. 

Mango summers and monsoon rains, 

Splashing in puddles, forgetting the stains. 

The trees stand tall, but we don’t climb, 

Lost in video games, we've got no time. 

No marbles, no chalk, no neighborhood games, 

Just usernames, screens, and digital names. 

We found magic in raindrops, joy in the breeze, 

Stories in shadows, dreams that please. 

With scraped-up knees and shoes worn thin, 

Every small moment held treasure within. 

The rain still falls, but indoors we stay, 

Feet safe from mud, on tiles we play. 

To us, the world outside is just a screen, 

Where emojis speak, and real smiles stay unseen. 

Homework was a chore a task we’d delay 

Rushing to finish so we could finally play

And the moment the bell rang, we were out that door

Free to explore, to dream and to soar. 

Homework’s the same, but the play has changed,

Where once we ran free, now we’re all estranged.

The games we play are now on our screens,

The spark still flickers, but it’s not as keen

Running through a field no need for a frame!

Living each moment wild and untamed. 

But now we like, we share but it's all through a screen

Capturing moments we’ve barely even seen. 

Street games, hopscotch, marbles and chalk,

The sound of laughter as we’d walk. 

Simple joys from simple things, 

Paper boats and broken swings. 

The scent of soil, the touch of grass, 

Moments too magical to let them pass. 

Now? We’re texting with “lol” and “omg,” 

“BRB” in a sec, gotta check my IG! 

“YOLO” we shout , but “GTG” we leave, 

Caught in the chaos IDK what to believe!!

So many short forms, we’ve lost the art, 

Of real conversations, straight from the heart. 

Sunflowers nodded in fields so wide,   

Beneath skies brushed with a sunset’s pride.

Painted rooftops and hills

Where every shade held a story true.

We’d race through colours, not just the land, 

A crayon world held in our hand.

For in every grown-up, that child still stays

Waiting to come out and play. 

So here’s to the wonder, the laughter, the play,

The part of our hearts that won’t fade away

So let’s hold on tight to those memories bright,

And keep that child’s spark forever in sight.

                                                  There’s no judgment here but maybe a gentle reminder:                                                                                          That before we started scrolling, we were running.

                                          Before we posted moments, we lived them...                                                                                                And somewhere, the sunflowers still remember.

                                                                                                               BRB !                                                                                                                                                                                                       Off to chase sunsets and sunflower skies.

                                                                                              ~The Doodling Bard