writing

Elegy for Castle Park

Since I first heard you were going to be torn down,

the idea that sound waves are forever suspended in space

has stuck with me.

I cannot remember the last time I saw you,

I only remember how forlorn you looked

without children crawling about you

as I drove past on a cloudy afternoon.

I remember how massive you looked,

and how welcoming.

I remember once climbing your highest tower

and thinking that the sky was just beyond my grasp.

If only I could go back again

to feel the smooth ridges of worn wood beneath my fingers.

When I think of you, I believe that somewhere out there

the wistful whistling of swings,

the heavy clunking of sneakers on floorboards—

the voices echoing through the beams of my wooden castle,

still hover among the stars

but remain hidden, like secrets.