This park is bare to my eyes.

Dirty, grey slide. Absent.

It is without a rackety, clackety roundabout

And with no metal frame to climb-

This park is dangle-free.

I blame government under funding

And probably Health and Safety.

 

But you don’t care.

It’s a beautiful, frosticle day.

Muffled and duffled, you trip along,

Reindeer nose juxtaposed

With green winter coat,

Bronze curls that defy brushes,

Chocolatey chin, boots like boats

And fur fringed mittens like baby stoats.

 

“Swing swing swing,”

Your sing-song shout.

I gently stuff you into the rubber cradle

And it’s up, up and away.

You’ve got free as air glee.

“Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

My eyes fill up with tears,

It must be the lack of sleep.

Wipe them away.

 

This park is more green to my eyes.

Dog dirt. Somewhat absent.

It is without crowds of busy people

And with nothing but swings,

This park has some space.

I stroll, thinking, minding,

While you run in circles,

Finding your own way from A to B.

And I’m finding my own way from you to me.