Lonely Park

  

The slide is empty, the swings hang limp
No shouts of laughter, no taunts of “wimp!”
The bench holds nothing but some dried-up drool
The children all have gone back to school

The quiet seems sad to those passing by
We imagine the lonely park wanting to cry
Though such sudden stillness to us speaks of grief
In truth all of the playground breathes a sigh of…relief

“At last I’ve a break from my sick dizzy spinning!”
Says the merry-go-round to the slide, who is grinning
“Oh yes, and sweet rest,” slide says, kissing the ground
“No more feet climbing up when they should just slide down!”

“And we don’t have to hear our chains rattle and squeak,”
Sigh the swings in a whisper, too tired to speak.
“Let’s be still for a while,” says the seesaw in turn.
“An end to the ups and the downs has been earned!”

It’s only the sandbox who feels sentimental
Who imagines sweet baby hands, chubby and gentle
But perhaps children screaming just cannot quite grieve her
Compared to the cats and the gifts they now leave her

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