Decay's Song

The playground stands silent, rusted,

a forgotten choir of swings,

    their chains creaking like old bones,

    reminding me of laughter,

    once vibrant, now only a ghost.

The red paint peels back,

revealing layers of time,

a canvas of nostalgia and decay—

    shadows cast by echoes,

    memories of joy,

    hollowed out in the spaces

    where children once danced,

    where youth spun in arcs of freedom.