Ghost Park

Swaying wooden swings

Whisper to each other

 

The wind blows dry leaves,

Scattering messages across the park.

 

The white, lacy blur

Of a girl

 

Polished black boots drum along stone paths

As the boy calls out her name.

 

“Come back, Margaret!

I didn’t mean it!

Come back!”

Reviews

[Colin Stewart]

i am looking closer and you are a gift writer indeed!
a creative anomaly and it's obvious that words delight in your company!
at: thepoeticminds.ning.com (POETRY, LITERATURE AND DREAMS) we are looking for daring bold people like you to light up our marquee - and if it dosen't smell like teen spirit - we cannot accept it because we are an international community of writers and artists who endorse your artistic freedom and freedom of speech.
we are music mad over there and would love to see your art and photography too - at the POETIC MINDS IT'S A HAPPENING!!!

[James Paulin]

Swaying, whispers -Wind blown messages -White lacy blur -Polished black boot drum-
I am admiring your combination of terms that exude specific impressions that are fresh and alive. Excellent

[Little Blue]

I love the melancholy air to this. I only wish it were longer. I think you should expand on this. You left me hanging! It is a beautiful beginning.