Sunday, January 15, 2012

The Park

I had a daughter once, a pretty thing, I took her to the park.
She built a wild, living house at the base of some trees
and became an angry thing, and refused to leave.

I still drive past that old park sometimes, hoping to catch a glimpse.
Everything’s fallen into disrepair.
The slides enter the deep earth, the swings have swung off their chains.

All the ladders go nowhere.

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