An empty playground

An empty playground,
It is something akin to desperation;
A lone, sad spectacle,
A thinker without inspiration.

It is a dead crater,
Without the sounds of the children;
Have they been scared away,
Have they been marred and bitten?

A solitare swing sways in the breeze,
A slide glistens in the sun;
Dust blows around the merry-go-round,
A relic to what used to be fun.

The children have grown up,
They have left this nonsense far behind;
An empty playground,
No longer a purpose for what it was designed.