Old Rope Swing

November 10, 2008
Looking up,
At the rope,
Hanging from the tree.
I used to swing on it,
Used to fly,
To feel so free.
I tug on it,
Hoping for it not to break,
So maybe I can swing.
It holds fast,
I look at the old branch,
Sturdy as ever.
I put one foot on the loop,
And shift my weight,
Onto the rope.
And suddenly,
I'm swinging,
Just like I used to.
And the wind blows in my face,
The cool Spring wind,
Full of new life.
A smile spreads across my face,
And I kick at the air with my other foot,
But something is missing.
Where are you,
When you used to laugh and giggle,
When you used to swing along.
I wonder,
And wish,
That I had you by my side.
I hear shifting in the bushes,
And slowly spin around,
Looking for the animal.
But I don't see anyone,
So again I swing,
But I feel your presence.
I hear your innocent laugh again,
Your hands covering mine,
Keeping me from falling.
I see your shining eyes,
Your cute crooked smile,
And the wind ruffling your hair.
I hop off the swing,
And land on the ground,
I come towards you slowly.
I have missed you so,
And I take your hands,
And hug you.
If it is the last time,
I will ever see you,
I want you to know.
That even though you're not alive,
That I think of you daily,
And that I love you.
I will always have memories,
Of you swinging,
On that old rope swing.

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