A Garden of Metaphors

Childhood days were a garden of delight,

Where every flower bloomed, so pure and bright.

Like a butterfly, I flitted from place to place,

Chasing dreams and hopes, with an innocent face.

The world was my playground, a canvas so vast,

Where every stroke of my brush, was meant to last.

Like a seedling, I grew, nurtured with love and care,

Becoming a flower, so fragrant and fair.

The sun was my guide, the moon my friend,

The stars were my companions, till the very end.

Like a bird, I soared, high above the clouds,

Exploring new horizons, free from any bounds.

I played hide and seek, with the rays of the sun,

Tagging clouds, and having so much fun.

Like a painter, I splashed colors, so bright and bold,

Creating a masterpiece, that never grew old.

The rain was my music, the thunder my beat,

The lightning my dance partner, so quick and fleet.

Like a symphony, I played, with the elements so wild,

Dancing to a rhythm, that was simply beguiled.

I climbed trees, like a monkey, and swung on branches,

Exploring the world, with all its chances.

Like a caterpillar, I crawled, and then emerged a butterfly,

Flying with grace, into the endless sky.

Childhood days were like a garden of hope,

A place where anything was possible, a place to cope.

Like a seed, I was planted, and then I grew,

Into a person, so strong, so wise, so true.

The memories of childhood, like a flower, still bloom,

Radiating joy, and chasing away any gloom.

Like a treasure, they are, so precious and dear,

A reminder of a time, without any fear.