A park, a park just like

any other

in it’s complete distinction from all the others

In the way that all the same basic things

are arranged in new and different ways

Where the people come to enjoy life

Where the kind play and preserve

Where the wicked destroy and defame

And in the warm afternoon sunshine

That feels extra nice

because it is Saturday

The people come to walk about

and play about anything

The people come to sit about

and talk about anything

And in the playground

the extra, extra special structure

that always glows with the energy of playful childhood

There, about 22 children played

There will always be the slides

and the swings

The children will always climb up

and put sand upon the slides

The children will always move onto the swings

When they wish to risk more nausea and injury

And, unlike the slide

the swing can always be too high or low

to fit into

This particular park had the swing

In the shade of an initial scarred tree

One could swing forward

And see the glare of the sun against the blue sky

Then swing back

And see the shade of the tree against the green grass

The rain that had gathered in the dents under the swings

was gone

The rust gathering on it’s various joints and crevices

remained

On the benches

which were not the nice swinging kinds

well off people had on their porches

but the wood and aluminum kind

which are at most wobbly

Loosely chained to something

And always "decorated"

with varying amounts of graffiti

There, sat a hand full of elderly couples

The elderly couples sat

sometimes feeding birds

or talking about their families

sometimes sitting perfectly still

(save for varying degrees of smile)

and watching the children on the playground

On the swing one could swing forward

and be in the sunshine

One could swing backward

and be in the shade

At just the right time of day

the minds of all the people in the park

young and old

swing once with the swing

And are shady when swinging backwards

dark when swinging backwards

looking down at the ground when swinging backwards

no bragging about how high you’ve swung

when swinging backwards

And are sunny when swinging forwards

bright when swinging forwards

looking up at the sky when swinging forwards

ready to jump off and fly with glee

when swinging forwards

At just the right time of day

the chains rattle, piercing a few ears

all the children swing backward

And the old, are jealous of the young

They were

And the young are afraid of the old

They will be

At just the right time of day

the chains rattle, flaking off some rust

all the children swing forward

And the young, being watched by the old

Feel safe

And the old, watching the young

Feel young again