Memories

• Miriam Lewis, Grade 9
• Poetry
• 2014

The rusty gates squeaking as they are opened
So quiet, the thudding, echoing footsteps,
Hitting the hard, cracked, grey ground,
No one seen in sight, just you, alone,
You feel, taste and breathe the metal tangy air,
The angry screech of the swings as you brush past,
Slowly but surely,
Memories filling up every corner,
Horror, Hell but also joy and happiness,
Ghosts of the past in front of your eyes,
running, chasing, laughing, screaming,
Yet there's not a sound,
What was once a veil of anguish but also hope,
Is slowly being rubbed away,
Soon to be dead,
Just another memory.