Reminiscing on that same playground,
that a young girl with blue bows,
pigtails, and Mary-Janes
would play on every day.

Sitting on what was once
a bright yellow tube, now faded to white.
You can almost hear the echo of
laughing and screaming children.

What was once newly stained wood,
now rotted, a vacant nest,
to the myriad families of inhabitants
no longer able to use the decrepit foundation.

Sitting in silence, deathly still,
with one move, dirt plows off the wood,
what was once a beautiful blooming tree,
creaks with old age.

With the honk of a horn
from the newly shined yellow vehicle,
I breathed so deep, my lungs engulfed the decomposing smell,
and jumped off that playground,

one
last
time.