The Swing

The Swing

Tied to a higher branch
each arc took almost forever,
gliding him in slow motion,
covering far more ground,
allowing him space and time
to recall all of his childhood
monkey-bar playground swings,
all the knotted ropes strung out
over the river of his youth,
all the sudden mood swings
of his troubled adolescence,
the bothersome back-and-forth
of his unpredictable adulthood
and now, finally, this:
his hard-earned and well-deserved
long, slow, and almost silent
smooth swing into nothingness.

RDP Saturday


5 thoughts on “The Swing

  1. I really like the sense of motion that is created in the beginning lines. It carries through as the reader progresses. I found myself swaying as I read this piece. Poignant and lovely.

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