Two Young Children Playing on a Small Playground

March 15, 2011
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The skin toned rocks on a summer day.
The old oak docks pushed into the shimmering blue.
And two young children playing on a small playground.
Dad chasing us around the swing set past the tree’s edge.
Mom shouting, “Don’t go too far!”
The black and yellow bumblebee buzzing by as it pollinates the sugary sweet roses.
My sister not wanting to be near the water and me pulling her along.
My dog swiping snacks from the basket as my mother turns her head.
Me swinging on the swing set and feeling like a bird with the boundless air under my wings, smelling the tall pines around me, and hearing the whoosh through my ears as my long, curly, brown hair swung behind me.
The magnificent orange and yellow blend of sunlight as it stoops below the horizon.
Everyone packing up the car as they stop, breathe, and see,
The skin toned rocks on a summer day,
The old oak pushing into the shimmering blue,
And two young children playing on a small playground.





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