I felt this dire urge to write something from my childhood. My parents spent a whole weekend in the pouring Seattle rain to build my siblings and I a play set. It was huge!!! It had three swings, a tire swing, and a couple towers. 
It was great and this was just a poem to remember it.
Grass so green, dandelions golden,
a yard no less than grand for a child.
And so large and vast my playgroud was!
The tire swing still in the wind’s rest,
wood rotting from constant Seattle rain.
So tall it was, three grand places to hide!
My childhood fun,
squeaking doors, rusting chains,
my swing set to which I will never return.
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