Playground on a Winter Night
The perfect snow has covered every footprint eliminating
every trace of play on the ground at the base of the slide and formed a sugar-crystal glaze on the bars of the jungle
gym
The swings have not been taken down Their chains sway back and forth propelled by childish ghosts whose
laughter masquerades as wind
They race to see which one can fly the highest then skitter off to climb the jungle
gym and tumble down the slide leaving no trace of their play no telltale footprint in the perfect snow
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