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Poem About a Park

I’ve been going through a pile of papers today… mainly consisting of old ideas, drawings, and thoughts scribbled down for later use. While organizing and purging said pile, I came upon a poem/ prose/ whatever I wrote during the end of Summer/ beginning of Fall of this year.  I actually like it, lol!  So here you all go…

Branches of elk horn and velvet leaves sprouted before I was born; when the park was more raw and without pristine bike paths.  Playgrounds of ergonomic safety built upon the backs of their steel predecessors; whose bars would burn your hands in the summer sun.  How our parents never questioned those metal dinosaurs, that is, if they were there.  Roaming free from the house is something these children will never know.  Like me with book straps and penny candy, it’s such an old fashioned notion.  Freedom seems to be these days.


About ymaseraph

I'm an artist, musician, poet, imagination station, dancer of dance, and creatrix of awesome.

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