poem about play ground
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Slides End
Playing on the playground,
On the merry go round.
The slides
The seesaw’s
The swing sets
Then we go inside to have a tea party.
The next day, we’d do the same.
When I’d enter her house, she was glad I’d come.
The slides
The seesaw’s
The swing sets
Up and down we go.
Just happy to be in each other’s presence.
No one would’ve ever known how we’d end up
at age eleven.
Eleven years old, in middle school.
No more slides
No more see saws
No more swing sets.
No more time to be together.
Walking past each other in the hallways, we’d smile at each other.
Then came high school and the smile turned into a nod.
We then had a class together, so we talked about old memories.
We talked about riding bikes.
We talked about old frenemies.
Then, a nod turned into a glance.
We were the slides
We were the seesaw’s
We were the swing sets.
Up and down, to and fro.
Then nowhere else left to go.
I sometimes wish we could go back to the slides
The seesaw’s
And the swing sets.
But even slides have an end.