Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Teeter Totter

[Please note: I received this as a late-night email in paragraph form as a random thought from a friend. I tinkered with it just a little and made it a poem.]

Teeter Totter

When young, the playground was a magical place
huge machines all waiting to be controlled
spun and swung, twisted and turned

There came a time when the teeter totter stopped
I was no longer looking up at the limitless sky
but rather staring down at the dirt

The teeter totter won't be going down again
Perhaps there's a spare shovel
so I can earn my way into this potter's field

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