the playground

the empty
playgrouund of
your childhood
still stands.
the iron
bars
surviving
the worlds
turn. the sand
blown
free from
the banded pit.
the see
saw in half.
swings without
seats,
the rusted chains
creaking
in the wind.
but it still
remains, the bones
of your
memory,
the small thrill
of your
short youth.