King of the Mountain

This is where the armies meet;
swings now still in after-dinner gloom,
slides whose empty chutes gleam in young moonlight,
monkey bars lonely for monkeys.
Pavement pictures will be erased by overnight rain;
drop by drop, smearing smiley faces and animals
that only walk and stalk in imagination and chalk.
This is where you find friends
and lose them again to casualties.
This is where battles you fight for respect
and the right to play in the tower are held.
This is where you learn to fall,
and get up, and keep playing the game.
This is where you discover frogs,
the opposite sex, and life is unfair.
This is where you realize the meaning of life,
then it disappears with your childhood.
This is where that grassy hill in the meadow
that triples as a soccer or baseball field or another world
is a mountain, and you could be king of where the armies meet.

King of the Mountain

moorefaith

North Olmsted, United States

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Artist's Description

A little nostalgic whimsy. I guess it’s a piece of fluff, but who says poetry has to be heavy all the time? If you do like a bit of nonsense, read Poetically Incorrect or Ode to a Turn Signal, another couple of “fluffier” pieces o’ mine. ;)

Artwork Comments

  • becky323
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