We have always lived here. We do not hear the rain as it falls upon us. We remain still as the cold corrodes us. Silent sentinels, we wait for the summer, for with it comes life and amusement. The smell of popcorn permeates the air. The sound of laughter can be heard at every turn.
Our sounds, once beautiful, are now corrupt. They are now agony to the ears and to the soul. Winter comes and with it, desolation. Harsher days beget harsher nights. We are here alone, our tattered fabric flapping in the breeze.
Our visage was once a site to behold. Our limbs were once effulgent, red and pink and turquoise glimmering in the sunlight. Now all they bear is rust. All they do is cave under the weight of the snowfall. We are silent remnants of better days, lonesome in the rain and sleet and snow.
Winter has come, and will you dare to join us? Will you come to us, boots trudging in the snow, breath creating clouds before you? Will you sit beneath our limbs, upon our seats, and bear the slow-creeping cold?
Will you come to us and laugh and smile as you once did, when the warmth of the sun kissed your skin? Come to us, bring us life and joy and exuberance. Come to us, despite the winter’s chill.
Come to us, where we have always lived, now and forever.