Playground memories

Walking across the chiseled cobblestone sidewalks sent flashes of ocean blue lightning down my entire trembling body.

Years had passed since the ear piercing yet soothing sound of swings had rocked back and forth, generating laughter that has gone cold as rusting metal.

Memories of a life that was no longer in existence had struck my mind like a jackhammer in soaking sponge.

Weight of what seemed relative to twenty thousand tons cast upon the swing, years ago it only felt as if a feather had landed on the now tarnishing saddle.

Glances of dusted slides opened the door to a house I missed and teared over every day for what seemed like a thousand moons.

Mulch had evolved into skeletal grass now creating over metallic monkey bars.

As age never decreases, either can rusting of spiraling slides nor growth of grape vines on what was once a waterhole for farcical happiness.

Mirroring echoes of a life with a pure jovial soul called upon me as I grazed the collecting dust off the overturned sea saw.

Flashbacks of innocence had confronted lakes that were forming in the bloodshot of my tearing eyes.

Why couldn’t life reverse to when the slides casted a scorching red, to when my fingers were small enough to not fit around the bars.

As rays of the now dying sun made the dullness of a long deceased slide show a spec of scorch, lakes became rivers.

Tons would never become feathers; years of age would never run parallel to the dying memories that were locked in my head for eternity.

It was time to unchain the memories of what was and explore new parks; even if slides are not as scorching, even if I can’t wrap my fragile hands around the shining bars.

I took one more dashing glance at the tar filled cobblestone, at the rusted swings and the hardest thing to stare at, myself.

The reality of not having to grow up blinded and rusted the infant heart of mine until I lost what was important, growing into who you are and not looking back on what you were.