I stared at an old tire swing
Thinking that even when we grow up and forget
The playgrounds of childhood remain
Then I walked a little bit south though
And found the playground
I used to go to with my Dad
Torn down,
Replaced with a field
It's okay though
Because for a long time
Those happy memories were just like the pasta
In the back of my friend's car
Rotting away
But never smelling bad enough
To actually clean up
We don't have to roll down the windows
When we drive anymore;
The smell is gone,
The playground's gone
And we can finally let ourselves be warm
If a little bit sadder