slideThe end of day
was unusually warm,
the playground,
unusually quiet. There
were children in the distance,

but I heard, as I have
so many times before,
his wail, his wrinkled face
a solemn song. His long
slender limbs folded
awkward like brittle branches.
His tears rounded
bunched skin, blushed cheeks,
left bits of spotted salty white.

A collision on the playground,
down the slide,
two friends,
elbow to ankle,
laughter then tears,
broken and bruised,
heal and repeat.

image: via

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Categories: Parenting, Play, Writing

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