The Haunted Playground

Night falls as I march toward the park,

each frigid breath a fight.

I see them from the tower above,

ghosts gathered in the night.

The young man who first found this place,

for its adventures yearned.

He planned and plotted all of them,

but never did return.

The older man who made it back,

but almost didn't know it.

He shared the pain of other's lives,

used pen and lens to show it.

That man did circle back once more,

to share the joy of youth.

He couldn't see the time retreat,

but kept up his pursuit.

And now I'm here, remembering them;

the men I used to be.

Longing just to join them,

to become a memory.

But I can't see who's next in line,

or if he comes alone.

I hope that he'll grasp tiny hands,

and gently guide them home.

Maybe he'll glance up at me,

a ghost that haunts him, too.

That memory isn't mine to make...

the rest is up to You.