Park Swings
A walk to the park
The crisp morning air
There’s frost on the ground
A chill everywhere
Squirrels scurry about
From here to there
They notice me not
I’m needn’t a care
Sitting alone
…those four wooden chairs
Waiting for me
And calling me there
Eight chains frozen
…hanging straight and so tight
Awaiting all burdens
From one winter’s night
Wooden and cold
…but just right for thee
She squeaked and groaned
Then waited for me
I gripped her links
…what was my plan
Push back - release
Or do all I can
I looked to the heavens
…then in front of me
Another man standing
His chance to speak
Needn’t a jingle
…or even a sway
My time has passed
Send wisdom his way.
Copyright © D. Robert Robinson | Year Posted 2025
|