Haunted Playground

Haunted Playground

The swings move alone in the midnight playground,

moonlight glinting on cold chains.

Children’s laughter drifts through the dark,

soft and hollow, echoing from nowhere.

The slides creak under invisible weight,

shadows stretch long across empty sandpits.

Tiny footsteps patter on cracked asphalt,

then vanish into the mist that clings to the night.

A carousel spins without a hand,

its painted horses frozen in mid-flight.

Whispers circle in the hollow air,

telling stories of laughter that will not fade.

The seesaw tilts with no one aboard,

creaking like a memory half-remembered.

Eyes glimmer from the dark corners,

watching, waiting, never seen but never gone.

Even the trees seem to lean closer,

their branches brushing the cold sky.

Every shadow hides a fleeting giggle,

a reminder that playtime never truly ends.

The playground sleeps yet breathes with ghosts,

each swing a heartbeat, each laugh a sigh.

Night after night they return, unseen but present,

and the empty ground trembles with their joy.