Walking down the street
With nothing, but the sun’s heat.
Thinking that I’m hidden within,
My mind starts to spin.

Seeing the swing come into view
Thinking about the first time I flew.
I like to swing when I am down
In the park just downtown.

To feel the air swirling around
The swing picks up what weighed me down.
All my worries begin to fade
The moment I thought I should have stayed.

I close my eyes for my mind to wander
As the sun sets, out yonder.
The scene starts to come back,
And I focus on a mud track.

Pumping higher to reach the sky;
I wonder if you’ll hear my cry.
The tears start to flow erratic,
Everything seems to come automatic.

The swing was flying slow
Just as the wind becomes a blow.
I head on home;
Who would have ever known?