Empty Playground

The swings stand empty,
but rock back and forth.
Probably in the memory,
of the children who sat on them.
The slide is also empty,
with no laughter filling the air.
The children have all gone home,
leaving the playground empty
with no one there.
Maybe tomorrow
there might be laughter there,
and the empty playground
will not seem so bare.

(7 July 2007)

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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