The screams can be heard from the car park,
Piercing like someone’s being murdered,
Brutally, but it’s just kids having fun, apparently.
And then they charge us five pounds
To sit at tables, sticky with the residue
Of sweets and coke that sends them to the moon.
The sound is all consuming, cacophonous
As toddlers bump their heads and bigger kids
Run riot, not caring who they knock
With arms spread wide and socks all grey
From dust that gathers in the garish tunnels,
Never cleaned since opening in 1999.
We order food and sausages that swim in oil
Arrive on plastic plates with pictures of those dinosaurs
That kids all seem to love, but then there comes the cake
With sparklers pushed in sugary sponge,
A health and safety risk, among so many others.
Leaving feels like coming up for air,
The wall of sound fading as we skip away
With wailing children on our arms,
We promise we’ll be back one day very soon.
Margot Kinberg
It sounds like such a lively, lovely summer fun time! I like the energy you share in this poem, too – you really capture what this is like.
patientandkindlove
I like that this poem shows joy, because the truth is that I hate those places with a passion. The noise is just too much for me!!
clcouch123
I can appreciate this as an experience children want to have. More so, I admire your creatively making for posterity such artifacts of culture.
I’m not sure what the USA equivalent of the soft-play centre is. We seem to like bouncy houses, which are inflated. We seem to go crazy for water parks and water rides as well.
patientandkindlove
I feel like, as much as I hate the soft play centres, I would love to at least try a bouncy house. I bet there are a lot of injuries in them!!