A Broken Swing

I’m the swing that swung and now I’m still, Never to sail again, Never to hear the sound of laugh, I remember the days of when The kids would float and kick and laugh, Each kid wanting to fly, All believing the dream of defeating the ground, And nobody asking why They could reach so high without a care, In the air it was them that flew, Not fearing about any possible hurt, Not troubled one bit about who Would come to their aid, would fix every scratch, They didn’t need to care, About adult stuff, writing or spelling, This was the only place where They could be a kid, but now they’ve grown And left me lying around, Left me hanging here broken down and sad, Alone in this quiet playground.