The Yellow Swing
The yellow plastic swing once hung
From branches on a tree
And we would push our daughter there,
Not knowing what would be.
For when a baby’s young, the future’s
Filled with hope and dreams,
Yet every path ahead may not be
Easy as it seems.
Still, as she grew, our daughter stayed
A sweet and happy child
And always on that yellow swing,
She clapped her hands and smiled.
As years went by, she got too big
And couldn’t really fit.
The swing was placed inside the shed;
I never thought of it.
Until today, a cleaning spree
And on a shelf, I found
That faded swing, no use at all
To anyone around.
I tossed it out, but it brought back
Those times from long ago
When I was so oblivious
To all I’d come to know.
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