Poetry at the Park

The air was as stifling as smoke, lingering on our skin like a fog, sweat pouring out of my skin through my hair like a river when we walked to the neighborhood park at dusk. The light was waning, moon watched us overhead, smiling her pearly smile as we played through the thickened evening.

We foolishly climbed and squatted and laughed as the kids carried on and the baby climbed the mountainous equipment with ease, except for the times his baby sweat made him too slippery to ascend any further.

The giggles from the swing permeated the air like a chorus of joy coursing through my veins. Felt almost like the first bite of a still-warm chocolate cupcake. I wanted to eat up that moment forever.


For tomorrow's menu - more giggly park fun to devour.

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