Wood withered with weather,
Ladder eaten by the growing moss,
The swing set sat in the
Furthest corner of my yard
In the soft sunlight,
And I sat on that swing set
With my friend
Emily,
And we would stay there
Through every holiday,
We decided
And we would string
Winking Christmas lights on each
Peg and length of that
Withered wood
On Christmas,
And we would swing
Forever
And our dangling feet would
Never
Reach the grass below
And we would never leave
And our chests buzzed with eagerness,
For the decision that
We made
Would change us and make us
Special.

But the sky above was soon
Stained with night and the
Excitement that had
Bubbled in our stomachs was
Muted by the barks of
Parents
And we left the seats empty
Under a lonely moon
And we were swallowed by the
Sharp light of houses
With the exhaustion
Shared by those ripped from
Once breathing dreams.