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.