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Swings This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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Across the park a child sprints
To empty swings. Her mother,
Lifting the rubber seat, glances
beneath to check for rain water.

I watch the clouds. White sails,
Traversing cerulean skies, halt
As if waiting on a windless sea.

She's swinging, her golden hair
Unfurling behind on every rise,
And with each return sweeping
Into her face like sunlit curtains.

Gone, the sails! By the horizon,
A darkened armada approaches.
It seems to freeze when I watch.

I don't wanna go home! Mother
Listens as the child's cry echoes.
I wonder, How long before she's
Like me – too old for the swings?

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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Sanjana C. said...
Nov. 13, 2011 at 6:49 pm
Nice poem!
 
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