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Shadows

They slip down a cobbled street
Built by their hands, treaded by their feet,
Down the slope they had once raised,
Past the very challenges they'd faced.

The sun's fiery light shines cold
Upon the air brimming with victories of the old,
Upon the trees rustling hows and whys,
And the shadow that does slowly rise.

It is the shadow of their glorious legacy -
All the records they had broken and flown free,
A reminder of what they had once been,
Of all the trophies and cups they'd win.

Alas! Now it binds them to the earth,
Reminding them of their new-found dearth.
What was once their pride, fed by every breath,
Is now a memory that'll haunt them till death.

For it spells that which they are no more,
A longing eating into them, leaving them sore.
And as the sun casts shadows on the cobbled street,
Remnants of glory one can meet.

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