An empty swing hangs from a tree
Drifting in airs varying touch
Vacant in his mind,
Where light shines upon the grass,
Stretching and leading
While shadows kiss the base of it's warm bark
This tree has a memory,
As the swing longs in its drift

This place
Where she used to reside,
Radiating magic and captivating flowers,
Remains dormant

The swing longs,
The tree mourns
The light, slightly dimmed and muddled

While remnants of her enchantment
Leave the scent of life and beauty embedded in every space
Her words once touched