Poetry

A Swing

Back and forth, back and forth

the swing sways softly

in the cool evening air,

not well oiled and creaking

with each gust of wind,

waiting for the night to pass

to hear the joyful noise

of laughter once again.

It’s always so dark and cold

but day always breaks again,

it has to break again.

Back and forth, back and forth

the swing sways softly

in the cool evening air,

waiting for the night to pass

to feel the warmth

of the sun again,

to hear the joyful

sound of laughter again

and the bustle of anything else again

to savor the time and

not just merely swing through it

One thought on “A Swing

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