Empty Playground

What later will be filled with squeals
And peals of childish laughter,
In desolation thus reveals
What comes before and after.

The vacant swings, with chains unclasped,
Hang waiting, so forlorn.
The silver slide, unoccupied,
Gleams dully in the morn.

The jungle gyms or monkey bars
Seem bare and incomplete.
They’ll only come alive when tamped
By scores of tiny feet.

The benches, ever patient,
Bide their time, unsatisfied,
‘Til that moment when some sitters
Will enjoy what they provide.

The meat of day will change it all –
The park will thrum with spunk;
But in the empty hours
It’s as silent as a monk.