No Park in the Walk

the monkey bars

are rusted through

and slide is tiresome long

­–rings too far to reach

–swings too hard to teach

the merry-go-round a creaking circle of dizzy

though it is

around.

 

seated, then, on bench

still slick with morning dew

and cool from the night

I tie my shoes

in bows

–carefully

carefully–

behind pond

missing ducks

pooled shine in dawning sun. . .

between cat tails

and sedge–

I gaze.

 

 

About Charron's Chatter

I bring to you an arrow, whole, Use it, or break it, But if you choose to take it --Know-- With it also, I will go. © Karen Robiscoe @1992

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