Playground
Watch us go to the park,
plastic tires of your big wheel
clattering on the pavement,
shop windows, groceries,
bus stops and benches,
through fence slats
houses click by.
At the playground
we climb the slide,
the earth below
peeking up through holes
in the metal stairs
and the clouds swinging back and forth
in the big sky.
On top we look out
over the whole park,
the lawns bright and green,
the picnic tables laid out in rows of three,
the bandstand, a smooth curved shell
with empty seats waiting
for an audience.
You slide down first
and I hear your voice,
thin, high,
calling back to me.
I'm next
and, by the time I reach bottom,
you're gone.
~Dee Cohen
In the playground of my mind
there is only my time
we roam around from here to there
with pleasure and lots of
carefree days, fun filled nights
dragons and monsters running
with fright, away from the roving meter
of my time, they dare not huff or puff
in this lair of mine. They creep around
wearily, with slanted eyes darting
round corners look for a surprise
pounce on their back for a short ride,
these long feared monsters take sudden life
they snort and roar much to my delight
I pick at their scales, and tickle their nose
with one of my feathers plucked from
my boa, a red one with ostrich plumes long
I attack them in hard to reach places
and giggle as they strain to reach the itch
chortling, and cackling just like a witch!
My time is unlimited, short days grow long
in my make believe playground my life is a song!
Soaring Feather
03/12/08