The swing, the backyard, made out of rope and wood
Tied to that old gnarled maple crooked as can be
Emerald with age and filth but loved in every way
I hid my childish wishes in every ride, secrets in the hard seat
My petite toes touching the vibrant green leaves, sun shining through
Leaves so delicate, too vulnerable
I plucked them away carelessly, a hope stored in each one
Caught in the wind, float away into a blue oblivion
Tiny freckles and fair skin, highlighted boldly by the summer sunshine
Golden curls skim the ground with the rise and fall
Long black lashes gently closed, concentration on reaching
Working to one pinnacle before jumping for a record
Butterflies climb to my throat, adrenaline
Weightlessness, tingle in every bone, anticipation
The sweet sting of landing, petite toes grab the grass
Grass so delicate, too vulnerable
I plucked them away, my childhood in each blade.
