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Hot Lava Monster

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The woodchips were the enemy,
As I swung bar to bar,
Calluses overtaking my fingers.

David, with closed eyes and zombie arms,
Approached, inching closer and closer,
So I jumped and ran,
like a silent, stealthy wolf,
Skimming through the brilliant tiger lilies
And dry woodchips.

I reached the swings just in time.
“Hot Lava Monster!” He called.
But I had already claimed my territory,
My knees bending,
Pushing me to the sky.

As the summer sun fell,
the metal bars glowed,
Illuminating our freedom and imagination.

The air grew chilly,
So we paused the game,
parting for the night,
Knowing that our dreams
would pass the time quickly,
Until we reunited at the park tomorrow.




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