The Swing

We sit together on a swing One foot touching the floor The gentle sway to and fro Like countless times before I close my eyes and fantasize Each sway represents one hill And when we swing back the other way It's the backside, oh what a thrill Anyone can see This ol' girl with me Has ridden this ride before We paid our dues And waited our turn I hope she stays on for more Because when she gets off Oscillation will stop The swing won't climb hills anymore So goes our life, as in swinging Her foot is the one on the floor An original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner