The Empty Park - A poem

* I'm no poet, but I love a challenge, and poetry is quite a challenge. I was inspired to write the following poem after walking past a park one day which was missing one very important ingredient: Children playing. The following poem is the result of me trying to work out exactly why would be. I hope you enjoy it.

The Empty Park

A playground with children at play.

The sound of laughter and fun,

Ring out like a bullet from a gun.

"They're happy." The mother will say,

Knowing there's only so many minutes in a day.

Time moves on, as it inevitably does.

Emptiness has left it's mark,

Like a lighthouse beam cutting the dark.

Silence fits snugly, like hands in a glove.

The unlikely resting place of peace's dove.

The ghosts of before; this was their realm now.

And the present knows not to interfere,

So if a pin were to fall everyone would hear.

No-one played, and no-one dared go.

A forbidden place where even grass won't grow.

A father and son stand side by side.

They survey the park, never a word being said.

Both are haunted by strange thoughts in their heads.

The father from images that had not yet died,

The boy from swings and slides he was unable to ride.

The father had heard it's secrets in his youth.

But there's a fine line between truth and fiction,

Which causes it's own share of friction.

But he had seen enough to have his proof,

And he knew the park was mysterious and aloof.

"Dad, can I play?" The boy was to ask.

The reply "I'm afraid not, for it is not ours to use.

It's full of danger, like a lighted fuse.

The park you see is but a mask,

It's all that remains of a troubled past.

The truth is so vast, and well I'm not up to the task.

"It's sad." He went on. "The park was once a happy place,

But as your mother says the past and present seldom meet.

To us the park is empty, like shoes without feet.

But somewhere though the children play still, with smiles on their faces.

And you can be sure in that somewhere the park is no longer an Empty place."

Jez Cartner - 19/01/2013

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