Swings and Slides

There’s a small house outside a park in Brooklyn. The park has some swings and slides. 

The house has a small porch where several chairs are sitting. 

The sun is just coming up and there is a young, barefoot girl swinging. The swing makes a whistling sound, a rhythmic hypnotic song. 

Across the street, a train rushes by. 

There is an old home outside a park in Brooklyn. The park has some swings and slides. 

The house has a small porch, a table with an empty cup.

The sun is setting and there is an older barefoot lady swinging. The swing cries out a rusty old tune, long since forgotten.

As the street lights flicker on, the 6 o’clock train rumbles past sounding like a thousand hammers hammering. 

The old lady is gone now, her shoes still on the floor beneath the swing. 

A whistling from somewhere recalls an older tune. A stray dog, falling leaves and a gusty wind blows. 

There is a small house…