Swing

In solitude I sit

The images of children now

Buried beneath the snow

Laughter now missing

Removed from wanton air

Imaginations erased from

Playing in the sky

Firmed grips no longer needed there

Ideal recreation for dedicated moms

With noses nestled in books

Avoiding imaginary warfare,

Or flying trapeze artists with skinned knees

“Will you take your hands off?”  I ask

“Double-dare ‘ya” heard from friends below

‘Fly through the air with the greatest of ease’

Firm footprints now buried beneath the snow

Under bright sun, or moonlit sky

Sounds of make-believe screaming –

Parents make-believe hearing

But I listen for a younger generation to come along

Playing an adult stepping sideways –

As the playing child steps forth

Restless and twitchy at first in my seat

But then has the self-confidence –

Of a king or a queen sitting upon a throne

Entered into their own magical world

Splashing in fountains of mud with their feet,

As parents come running to scold

Now, snow-covered, in solitude I sit alone.

 

Copyright © 05/09/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®

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