Ode to the Lonely Swing Set…
That sits in the yard forlorn
Wondering why the children won’t come out to play.
Weathered and in disrepair,
It remembers the golden years
When, strong and vibrant, it provided happiness and freedom
To little legs that reached for sky
And little hands holding on tight to childhood.
Now, splintered, ignored, abandoned
It longs to love again.
But instead, sits quietly remembering; waiting.
Dreaming of summer and sun
And barefooted children
Who have loosened their grip on the swing
And jumped into the future.