The Abandoned Park

Ours was a generation of seesaws and merry-go-rounds.
More than anything, we loved whiling our time away in the Children’s Park of 12th Street, downtown.
Dashing through the gate we ran into this meadow of joy and felicity

Stomping grounds, embracing winds of laughter and mirth,
Riding merry-go-rounds with heads swirling around.
Holding on and letting go of the barrel,
To feel the world pass by so fast and swift,
Exclaiming our thoraxes out until it began to hurt.

Sticking up our tiny selves on the seesaws,
Soaring up in sky to defy gravity,
Only to come right back
Like a descending yo-yo;
Bouncing back and forth in merriment.

Running as fast as a horse to the swing,
Expanding our feet to the ground,
Holding back and letting go.
“Weeeee!” in unison we cry,
As living pendulums we fly.
With constant leg motions,
Flapping and fluttering through the winds.

Strolling through, embracing the fence
Ricocheting like sweet tarts,
Giggling and chuckling like red clowns.
Throwing down our bodies on the lush green grass
Watching the sun go down and the moon come up,
Only to have our heads hit with conscience,
That it was time to wrap it u.

Hearts sinking, lungs crying
To not leave the presence of a place
That filled us with life in abundance.
In our beds we go,
Wanting the sun to shine and glow.
Guided by the paths,
To the gates of The Children’s Park of 12th Street.
Euphoria taking over us,
Swaying our hearts to and fro
In the pastures of sheer jubilance.

Childhood and puberty flew by in a moment,
Exposing us the horrors of the world that lay ahead.
Struggling and striving to make a place
Failing and succeeding on the world’s face.
Morose and sullen, we find our way
Back to 12th Street, downtown.

Iron gates clad in rust and crumbling away,
Doddering like a man in 80’s,
Creaking and squeaking shrills,
Beautified with overgrown wildflowers,
Merry-go-rounds and swings swaying,
Seesaws ruffling through the muddled mass
Abandoned and forsaken,
Like a field of knee-length grass
And crushed tin cans.