The Swing
The swing was hung beneath the tree,
And waited, quietly, to be sat upon;
The child, when swinging, flying free
Could touch the sky, the stars where life began.
Oh gaudy swing, the pendulum always with me,
You are the daily rhythm with the sun
And moon, set the leaves to dance in glee;
Just rope and wood, but soaring curving fun.
© 2ndwitch, 23/04/14
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