My childhood swing sits alone
weathered by age and heavy rain.
Weeds littered through the overgrowth,
it’s structure hunched and in pain.

I recall a time when
buttercups and clovers grew
as we swung with such ease
soaring like a bird, up
through the cerulean blue we dreamt of.
We fell softly on the mossy
grass, glistening with dewdrops.

Our yearning so bulletproof
that the shockwave through our
ankles from swinging too high
rendered nothing compared to our desire
to accompany the sun in the pool of azure.

If we were to swing with such limitless liberation
now, the frame would shatter
or simply resign to the ground in defeat.
We would lie among the weeds,
our ankles broken, weeping.

Not just for current failures,
but for the little girl who
swung so high that her shoes flew
and could see nothing but the sky,
illuminated by sunshine.

About this poem

I wrote this poem about lost childhood and that heavy sense of nostalgia when it comes to positive memories, combined with sadness that those days will never return. It speaks of the invincibility of childhood innocence and how it is an irreplaceable feeling.

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Submitted by rosecbyrne on July 27, 2022

Modified on March 05, 2023

51 sec read

Quick analysis:

Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 866
Words 172
Stanzas 5
Stanza Lengths 4, 7, 5, 5, 5

Rose Byrne

I am an aspiring poet and writer of prose from London, who loves poetry about melancholy love and nostalgia. more…

All Rose Byrne poems | Rose Byrne Books

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    "Swinging" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 22 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/133806/swinging>.

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