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Tire Swing

June 9, 2014
By Anonymous

The swing sits still
Black and round
Its small pocket holds the archive
Of a thousand memories
Children laughed and fell
Adults bit their nails
The warm rubber old and cracking
Fashioned from a rusty chevy
The rope found in the stream
High we climbed in the long dead tree
Unhooking the old tire swing
For the last ride of the summer

© Anonymous

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