I think I saw you once, sitting silent on the swings;
Your pervasive empty made the cold that February morning sting;
The chains were dormant, and you had nothing to say.
I wanted only to give you something to care for, to make the chains sway.

I couldn’t approach, I had been frozen to the pavement.
I wasn’t used to this sort of Romantic sort of enslavement;
I think maybe I stared too long, waiting for some part of a smile.
But if I could ever get my feet up, it’d be worthwhile.

I wrestled quietly with ice that held me down to the gray --
I didn’t want to escape so quickly, didn’t want to scare you away.
You started to stand, and in my direction glanced askance;
I promise I could swing with you if you just gave me a chance.