Swings MAG

July 10, 2009
By Alexandra Collis BRONZE, Glenside, Pennsylvania
Alexandra Collis BRONZE, Glenside, Pennsylvania
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

We used to sit,
slowly swaying on the swings, leaping,
latching onto the iron,
creaking and moaning as we swung, delicately,
wondering if the stars and the moon would support our weight
up under the world.
Sometimes I return there,
still and empty,
a particle of dust floating in the air,
Static, and I hold my breath so it does not stir.
Moonlight sends the dust swirling away,
my voice is sucked right up into the still air.
And you smile,
and a part of me is
and bullfrogs,
and fresh-cut grass,
wet from two days' thunderstorms. And I wonder if you will be there
when the grass is cut tomorrow.

The author's comments:
This poem is dedicated to my best friend who has struggled with suicidal thoughts in the last several years. I hope that as the years go on he will find peace and acceptance for himself in the world.

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This article has 1 comment.

on Jul. 26 2010 at 11:23 am
court8652 BRONZE, Franklin, Tennessee
3 articles 0 photos 13 comments

Favorite Quote:
"a friend is someone who reaches for your hand but grabs your heart".

im bawling right now......youre not alone and neither is he in his thoughts....i have friend with the same thoughts and this poem was amazing.

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