She walks into the park with gleaming eyes
Bouncing on her little feet
And in the very corner, she sees
A rusted red swing creak.
She takes her seat on the rickety swing,
On her face a curious grin,
With the swing,she soars into the clouds
And thus, their adventures begin.
But she’s getting older now,
Moments in the park are fleeting and rare,
As busy thoughts entrap her mind, she can no longer
Swing without a care.
She looks back with teary eyes,
Her childhood now subdued,
The old red swing, once again
Creaks in solitude.
