By Chuck Keys
The park is empty,
Littered with broken bottles,
Unsightly weeds of irregular lengths,
Varying debris and memories of bygone days.
Void of voices from games past played
Of cheers, sneers, angers and joys
When children screamed, frolicked and stayed.
The wind and silence scream a loud.
Families, picnics and camp fires echo from the past.
Shared foods of gastrointestinal delight flowed freely.
Desserts of Smores, with chocolate bars, fired crispy marshmallows
Smushed inside graham crackers.... Mmm.
Where have yesterday's children gone to play?
To fields of varying sports,
Arenas for love, war, tranquility,
For sport, fame and fortune or death.
The journey begins and ends with each moment of life.
Roads traveled daily become the final journey,
Made up of echoes from past travels,
As life and death converge into an ongoing existence.
© Charles H Keys, 2010. All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © Chuck Keys | Year Posted 2010
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