A Play Place

There once was a desert behind the restaurant,
And there was an oasis on the other side.
The desert could be changed, though.
Sometimes it was Fenway Park,
And my brother became the Yankee's pitcher
Trying to strike-out the great Manny Ramirez.
Other times I would catch a hail-mary pass
- "47 yards from Brady to Branch!" - ,
And we would set up for the Superbowl winning field goal.
Other times we were not so cheerful.
The desert was vast.
After days of thirsting, we finally reached the oasis.
We graciously accepted the nectar from honey suckle flowers,
Cautiously pulling the stem out and setting the droplet of gold on our tongues.
After a rest we would find shelter.
There was no need to build a tree-house,
For we lived in the trees as monkeys.
Swinging from branch to branch
Sometimes failing and landing on the forest floor.
But once we swung too far,
And we forgot to return.
Now the desert and oasis have been destroyed.
Behind the restaurant, there is only a parking lot and a McDonald's Play Place.

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