Playground

Fri, 10/21/2016 - 08:51 -- lincya

Recess was the next best thing to Christmas morning.
It was a place of laughter and freeze tag.
Children grew up with the monkey bars and swings.
As you grow up, it becomes a distant relative--one you see every once in a while.
Your time spent here isn't as often as the time you spent then.
It seems as one leaves, another comes to fill the space of children lost to the growing age.
It's not just a playground that's just a name. It's a spaceship, a first kiss spot, a place where we used to screem a lot.
Memories fill the air with laughters and cries.
A childhood memory lost in the bundle, but this oje forever remains a place with many names.

This poem is about: 
Our world

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