Faded Play Park Poem by Bernard F. Asuncion

The painted swings now rusted in the breeze,
A silent playground where no laughter rings.
The faded murals on the peeling trees,
A broken carousel where no joy springs.
The whispered secrets, lost in tall dry grass,
The empty sandbox where small hands would pass,
A fading echo of a carefree time.
A shadowed memory in life's harsh climb.

The dreams we held, like bubbles in the sun,
A fragile beauty that could not remain.
The games we played where innocence had won,
A wistful longing for a childhood's reign.
The giant oak where once we built a fort,
The path we ran, a now forgotten sport,
Now stands alone, a sentinel of age.
A tear-stained story on life's empty page.