letters from a child's playground

Letter from a child’s playground

“Nothing!” you call him.

And, he is all smiles.

Neighborhood sun shines

On a verdant land.

Sprinkled waters still

Remember close scent

Of grassy valley.

 

Nothing is the name

Of these moments from past,

The perpetual child

Playing with dusts, dirt…

“Nothing!” you call him.

Here he comes dwindling

“Not yet!” he will say.

The play never ends.

 

Reviews

[lori c]

i call this one, in my mind, ode to the inner child. i feel the second stanza says it all, ,,,the perpetual child,,,--,,,moments from the past,,,,---,,,,the play never ends,,,, i love these phrases and of course the child's answer of 'nothing' when indeed they are always doing something -- even if it is quietly reminding us of their existance still. kudos.

[Kasey Klein]

Hello my friend.

Always good to see a new piece from you to ponder.

Thanks for the note.

[Beautifully Tragic xPoe..]

Interesting write. I think you pulled it off quite well. Nicely done.

[George Love]

Interesting thoughts here. I'm not sure which way to take this one. I have the image of a child waiting for someone to play with them, but I am not quite sure.