Playground

August 7, 2017

Wordlessly,
We’re instantaneous friends,
Down slides,
Pushing one another on swings,
Wound around monkey bars,
We see but do not judge color,
We are close in age,
But developmental milestones apart,
The sand sifts under feet
And is pounded as we run,
In wonder we laugh
About everything
And nothing,
We make games,
With rules
We break as we go,
Imagination colors everything
Technicolor,
And we see things and each other
Not just as they are
But how we might imagine them to be,
Guardians watch our play
With vigilance and quiet amusement
We will lose this play with age,
But for now we are carefree adventurerers,
On the terrain of our childhood.

 

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Author: She of Letters

Mother, WRITER, artist, dreamer, civil and human rights activist, humanitarian, sentient being. I write to remember; I write to discover; I write to understand.

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