Alone
Outside in the fresh, cold air
A swing sways
Dancing a slow, sad waltz
In the orchestral moan of the wind
The violin bows of the tree
Sweep down
Sending the simple wooden board
Into a spin
No child to weigh it down
No laughter to block out the sough
No playmate for when the sun beckons
Alone

Until
On a crisp fall day
When the air snaps
And the leaves are bright as a child’s eyes
A girl wanders
Seemingly lost
To the tree that houses the swing
They recognize each other
As if out of a haze
An old friend
A companion
Another part of yourself
You forgot long ago
They meet
Hand curling around rope
Fitting exactly where it used to

As she pulls herself up
Onto the awaiting wooden board
Ingrained with the memories
Of a childhood falling behind
And as she sits
On the swing
That still sways in the wind
As it sings lullabies
Until she is no longer a girl
But a child
Here to
Weigh down the swing
Cover the sough with her laughter
And play when the sun beckons
Here to swing