I walked on those low brick walls as a fearless kid....
Went home with grazes and scars, which from mum I hid....
Although the brick walls and rails still look the same....
No remnants remain on the bricks of my chalk-scribed name....
Rusty bars, flaking paint, bricks now covered in moss....
What was once a child's playing field, now no one gives a toss....
The surrounding echoes memories of those good times past....
The inevitabilities of life proves nothing is here to last.
Poem by Asma.
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