#184 ~ Park Bench Silence

They kept playing

twirling their fingers in her hair

blowing raspberries against her still warm, cold cheek.

Frayed and crying, snivelling, bored and tired

they kept playing with her hair

twirling their fingers in the threads of her scarf.

She had shuddered a fearful sigh

trying to make those fingers grasp their arms one more time

Praying, hoping, someone would come by and realise

that her babies wouldn’t be left in the cold, alone, for too long.

They kept playing,

twirling their fingers in the willowy bodies of summertime grass

making mudpies, and picking playground scabbed scars

Until the paramedics came, and bundled them away

They kept playing,

twirling their fingers in her hair

soaking in a scent they didn’t even realise was there

Praying in unintelligible words, that they’d see her again

and the memory of that warm, cold, willowy, summer grass of mudpies and threadbare scarves

would live on, and brighten the nostalgic dark.

They kept playing.

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