The Swing
We sit together on a swing
One foot touching the floor
The gentle sway to and fro
Like countless times before
I close my eyes and fantasize
Each sway represents one hill
And when we swing back the other way
It's the backside, oh what a thrill
Anyone can see
This ol' girl with me
Has ridden this ride before
We paid our dues
And waited our turn
I hope she stays on for more
Because when she gets off
Oscillation will stop
The swing won't climb hills anymore
So goes our life, as in swinging
Her foot is the one on the floor
An original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
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