Skeleton Swing
It is warm today giving me time
to sit and bask in the sun.
Gentle breeze lifted my hair;
A dried seed pod from the tree
above floated down
To join the many other brown
twelve-inch long pods littering the ground.
The skeleton of a backyard swing
sat forlorn
Above the stepping stones I
brought on the plane from Carolina.
No children now skipped upon the
stones nor leapt into the once swinging chair;
Broken, it stood bare and alone,
the frame waiting for a new occupant.
January 20, 2012
5 comments:
Nostalgia here - except for the breeze in your hair.
Time. All it takes is time.
New swingers come.
You are both right, Barb and Cosmo. Nostalgia today for days gone by and today the frigid air makes me nostalgic for the warm breeze in my hair! But time will bring new swingers ~ I long to still be here to see them.
Yes they will come but meanwhile I dare you to have a swing yourself - just pretend you are 10!
Oh, Nkeiru, shall I take you up on that dare? When my fever goes down, maybe tomorrow. . .
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