Our Daughter's Swing
A branch once held our daughter’s swing
By blue supporting ropes,
The yellow molded plastic
Holding her and all our hopes.
We pushed her as she laughed out loud
And always wanted more,
So we complied, each happy swing
Just like the one before.
In time, she grew too big for it;
It hung there, never used.
The branch, from wind and rain and
All that weight was worn and bruised.
And then one day it simply snapped,
The swing found in the dirt,
Long past the time when any toddler
Might have gotten hurt.
The tree still stands, our daughter’s grown
And very few recall
The yellow swing that held that child,
Giggling in its thrall.
Copyright © Ilene Bauer | Year Posted 2025
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