I'm not quite sure...

If anybody actually reads this.
But I don't really care.

Here's a little thing i wrote about the little playset in my backyard.


Age old trees cast their shadows over the graying wood.
Winter’s chill seeps into bones.
Rusty metal chains cling to dirty blue plastic seats, a desperate last attempt to make amends. These swings once brought children such joy, but the deteriorated seats now hang limp and unused like last year’s Christmas doll discarded in July’s rain. They brush the ground. A memory forgotten.
The slide had been silver many years back, but covering it now is the brown-grey film from a decade of neglect. The adjacent ladder misses all but four of the original ten rungs, the space between them filled with the cries of children fallen victim to the splintering wood.
Up the ladder, vines swallow all that once flourished; their viral existence choking out delicate flowers. Their thorns pierce skin, needle points like syringes trickle out enchantment that makes time hold still. Lavender flowers. Asphyxiated buds. Youth inert.
These vines lose their grasp as the altitude increases, leaving only a handful that reach the platform. Many tea-parties with fairies and rendezvous with wood nymphs have left the wooden beams well worn. The scent of youth and Earl Grey still linger. The taste of sugar hangs in the air. Remnants of past festivities. Memories. Nostalgia.
Divinities have journeyed from Heaven and Hell to visit this small wooden structure, accompanied by figures of the past and their ghostly artifacts that litter the ground around the square base in a mid-winter snowfall. Eyelashes glisten with lust. Fingers itch with the bite of frost. Masters are too consumed by dreams of greatness and immortality; they neglect to pay any mind to the potential damage.
All who visit unearth the fountain of eternal youth, its springs flowing forth unlike anything of this world; ice chilling the individual who dared disturb its rest. Relief is found in the melancholy symphony of winter’s eternal residence in the wooden beams of the small swing-set with broken swings, a neglected slide, and memories that restore youth to any who seek it.