Allison Frishberg

The Abandoned Playground

A swing sways slowly on two rusty chains.
Forwards. Backwards. Side to side. Up and down.
Whines of creaking metal parts fill the air,
As wind whistles through holes in rotten wood.

A slide shines with its dull, pathetic glow,
Begging for the slightest bit of attention.
Yet, its metallic surface invites only
Dirt and dust to collect in dings and dents.

A picnic table with knots in its wood
Has juice stains covering its splintered top.
An unbalanced bench is present beneath it,
Its leg worn away from previous usage.

A small sandbox, once filled with coarse white grains,
Now has rocks and trash trapping the granules.
The sand gives up hopes of being set free
And remains in the dark, neglected pit.

Attached to a metal pole, fixed in place,
Is a slightly fraying and graying string.
Each of its threads holds on to precious life,
Just praying for a kind soul to repair it.

A see-saw rattles up and down, with only
Wind enabling it to teeter-totter.
The once firmly-fastened handles are now
Loosely attached with bent nails, screws, and bolts.





[TABLE OF CONTENTS, LHS CLASS OF 2009 EDITION]


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