Little girl, leans back, hair flowing,
Gaining momentum, feet don’t touch the ground –
The swing carries her up and down.

Eyes closed, the world sways,
Tree leaf shadows flicker on her face.
Warm summer days.

Time, the persistent pendulum works
Legs grow long, feet drag on the ground.
Work to go forward, work to go back
A little motion sick perhaps.

Eyes wide open, the world jolts past,
Clutching the chains doesn’t prevent
Long week days, and short ends.

Dusty shoes, with many passes
Wear ruts in the ground.
Perhaps a place to land or
Perhaps to hover gently,
A paper’s width between life and childhood.


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