Memories
Children’s empty playground
Swings, roundabouts
Shiny metal slide to hot to slide down
Do I dare go inside?
Swing awhile, remembering
Old summer days when we had
all the time in the world before us
My long-lost school friends
Are they there beside me?
Do I see the empty swing moving?
Or is it my own vibration
that moves, ghosts remembered…
I loved that, Anita. It ignited dusty memories…(evocative photo!) x
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Beautiful, Anita. Places of our childhoods will do that to us.
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Lovely poem, Anita. I always wonder what the old friends are doing. Too bad we lost touch.
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Thank you for this, John… We really should keep in touch with our friends…
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Yeah, but it doesn’t happen.
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Not sure why, for we always regret it…
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*shrug
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