Shadows of Innocence

Under the moon, the swings creak in the breeze,

the rust speaks of laughter now buried in time,

a playground stands still, with ghosts in the trees,

a sanctuary lost, wrapped in shadow and rhyme.

Once filled with light, now shrouded in night,

the echoes of playtime softly retreat,

yet still, I hear whispers that dance out of sight,

a playground for dreams that the dark can’t defeat.