Sitting upon a small yet satisfied play-set, with,
sandwiches and soda,
it seemed so calm.
As little children almost frolicked
in the hot and cool sand.
I look over at my friend,
drinking from our soda bottle,
and wonder:
Is this what the state, and beingness, of content is?
The fiery summer breath did little to our hides, and
the smoky air didn't seem to
touch us. Our stomachs
did not complain, nor whine
for the pastries we've bought.
Our dry tongues did little to our speech.
Our camera flashes, steal, grabbing away yet another moment
and memory to share for the world.
And soon we are flying
on metal chain that groan
and creak from their age
and our weight.
Not long later, we are
flying with out those chains.
for a brief moment, it seems
the deep blue abyss in close
enough to touch.
then next, our feet hit
the ground with a mumbled
thud, and a splash of inedible
grain.
We climb upon strange
structures and sets, day
dreaming of what our own
homes may be, and across
the great seas.
The top is reaches, and our heavy lungs take in smoke
Chocked air.
Our stomachs whine and shout for a reward of their patients.
The cool sweet bread greets
us like a feast. The bubbly, laughing,
drink eases the chocking.
Upon looking at the now
blazing sun lit sky, we
know our adventure is over.
With tired limbs and heavy
eyes, I pack my lunch and
drinks.
Though worry not as we
walk back home, because our
frightened mothers shall
greet us.