Empty swings.
Playground left behind.
No children playing or running.
No people here laughing.
Or just talking.
Just a mother alone with her mind.
All the happiness gone.
Blown away by the cold northern wind.
The same wind that chilled you.
Killed you.
Took you away.
My sweet child.
And now I am here.
Just me.
A childless mother and her mind.
Standin by the empty swings.
At an empty playground.
Left behind.
I just stand there.
Mourning your untimely death.
Missing your beautiful smile.
Your warm laugh.
Oh my sweet child.
Every day I mourn your death.
Curse the cold norther wind that took you away.
The wind that took a mother's child.
The most precious thing.
Oh my beautiful child.
And every day.
I come back.
To watch the empty swings.
And look back at the past.
To mourn your untimely death.
And every day I watch this empty swings.
The swings you used to play on.
Till this cold northern wind took you away.
Now a mother comes to the empty swings.
Every day.
Crying for the lost of her son.
A childless mother at an empty playground.
All happyness long forgotten.
There by the empty swings.
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 6:33 PM UTC
Empty swings.
Playground left behind.
No children playing or running.
No people here laughing.
Or just talking.
Just a mother alone with her mind.
All the happiness gone.
Blown away by the cold northern wind.
The same wind that chilled you.
Killed you.
Took you away.
My sweet child.
And now I am here.
Just me.
A childless mother and her mind.
Standin by the empty swings.
At an empty playground.
Left behind.
I just stand there.
Mourning your untimely death.
Missing your beautiful smile.
Your warm laugh.
Oh my sweet child.
Every day I mourn your death.
Curse the cold norther wind that took you away.
The wind that took a mother's child.
The most precious thing.
Oh my beautiful child.
And every day.
I come back.
To watch the empty swings.
And look back at the past.
To mourn your untimely death.
And every day I watch this empty swings.
The swings you used to play on.
Till this cold northern wind took you away.
Now a mother comes to the empty swings.
Every day.
Crying for the lost of her son.
A childless mother at an empty playground.
All happyness long forgotten.
There by the empty swings.
