Empty Playground

What later will be filled with squeals And peals of childish laughter, In desolation thus reveals What comes before and after. The vacant swings, with chains unclasped, Hang waiting, so forlorn. The silver slide, unoccupied, Gleams dully in the morn. The jungle gyms or monkey bars Seem bare and incomplete. They’ll only come alive when tamped By scores of tiny feet. The benches, ever patient, Bide their time, unsatisfied, ‘Til that moment when some sitters Will enjoy what they provide. The meat of day will change it all – The park will thrum with *****; But in the empty hours It’s as silent as a monk.