The Tire Swing
A tire swing hanging from a willow tree
barely swaying to and fro
my small feet sweep
and kick up dirt
on the ground beneath and below.
Under a cold damp gray sky
safety is found here in the yard
from the darkness of the house
and the many things
I want to forget and discard.
As the rope holds my weight
my little mind is lost
too young to grasp the damage
or understand the cost.
I am the master of holding back tears
a lump keeps words from escaping
I scream silently inside
keeping my thoughts from shaping.
Slowly the motion rocks my fear to sleep
and I come back to where I came
imagination takes over
burying sad places
in my little frame.
My thoughts set free to run with wonder
oh how I love this tree
that I'm under.
Peace found while floating in a soft rubber tire
dark soul lit again
twirling under and
higher and higher.
Like scars that fade but never go away
rope has left a mark still Imprinted on the tree limb
In that yard
today.
7/20/15
Copyright © Lee Carter | Year Posted 2015
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