Her Playground

 

A whorl wind tornado is forming

from powdered dust and pebble

to my merry-go round

inside my playground

Where a child sits on a swing set

Alone

grasping the chains

Rocking gently back and forth

Kicking the sand beneath her feet

at each forward sway

eyes fixated on a tiny spot

two inches in front of her-

a little rock

covered in dirt from the frosty earth

Tiny beads of dew dripping from

Lonely blades of grass

Bending them gently over the modest rock

Forming a shelter from the elements

There’s no reason to look any further

There’s nothing else out there

Just her

Just a rock

Just her innocence

Lost