Forgotten Playgrounds

The children swarm, laughter spills wide,

painting a hydrant, colors collide,

a bright orange splash against faded gray,

in the heart of the street where we used to play.

I stop in my tracks, nostalgia ignites,

a flashback of summers, those endless nights,

a battleground of water, games under the sun,

where every splash felt like the rush of a run.

This hydrant, a sentinel of my youth,

witness to secrets, to laughter, to truth,

it stands there bold, with a chipped painted grin,

a keeper of tales held deep within.

As the kids gather, I smile at their fun,

my heart dances lightly, remembering the run,

where joy was a heartbeat, wild and unbound,

the fire hydrant stands, still steadfast, profound.