Thursday, 14 March 2013


No one plays here anymore.

Now there is only corroded metal.

Flaking paint that lies crumbling on stone;

Blowing like dust-dry memories.

A stain marks the ground.

The old swing moves.

Wind tugging at tired chain.

The links squeal a distant echo

Of a once more joyous sound.

There is no more laughter here;

No longer the calls of youthful voices
Cheerful play and bodies wrestling

In the yellow grass.

…Long gone,

Like the crisp autumn leaves

That tumbled in confused eddies,

Chasing along the river bank.

Occasional tears pass by.

The grass grows tall.

Litter faded with time.

No one plays here anymore.

1 comment:

  1. This is so sad. It calls to mind an abandoned playground. Perhaps all the children who played here have since grown up and moved out, or perhaps something more sinister is at work...

    Well done!