He swings an empty chair, of a thought
that was once there. He misses what filled
this space of what was once permeated
on this spot but is no longer here.

In the night you can hear it swing,
But the thought persists is he there swinging
or the echoes of what was once there.

The wind was fanning upon the trees,
as the leafs fell in haste, the swing was
static like frozen on the spot.

Everyone missed the little child who loved
to play on swing. But I tell you this I still think
he plays there even though he's no longer here.

He asked her why she liked swing sets
A dreamy look clouded her eyes
And her answer was simple
"It's the closest I can get to flying"
He pushed her for more answers
What about planes? Jet packs? skydiving?
There are plenty of other ways
She knew this of course, but corrected her answer
"It's the closest I can get to flying...
Without leaving the ground"
The boy thought about this, wondering:
What held her back?
He didn't know she was afraid of falling
So he continued yet again
The girl knew he wasn't going to stop asking
"I like knowing that when I jump,
I won't break
Or crash
Or collapse"
By now words were pouring like rain from her mouth
"I just like freedom surrounded in security"

i don't want to look there anymore for fear of the clockwork ****** that i make of my own memory every time i pass that house on Sheridan Circle. it is filled with the ghosts of childhoods well spent but long past and i can't help but think how the rope by which the old swing used to hang looks like a noose, which it may as well be. maybe one day i will swing from it for the last time.

Once there was a lonely swing
It swung slowly at midday
But stood still at midnight
It was out of curiosty that i held its chain
Rusted from years of use

Slowly i sat and thought
"How lonely it must be to be forgotten"

To give pity on a swing
I must have lost my mind
So I held on and pushed
Slowly pushed on the cold sand
The swing creaked with each movement
Reminding me of its sullen old age

It brought me higher and higher
Euphoria filled me to the brim

I reached out as
I aimed for the stars
The constellations
The galaxies from afar
Grasping the dusts of the wind against my palm
Inhaling the cold city air

Breath in
Breath out

"Higher higher" i screamed
Lashing out to the nothingness that surronds me
Cringing to the sound of rust against rust

The silence was defeaning as I swung
So i pushed harder and harder
Till the universe embraced me
It made me dizzy as it took every ounce of my breath
So I had to stop
Because madness was an armlength away
Beckoning me to let go as i reached the peak of the sky

Maybe it wasn't so bad
To experience what it was like to fly for a moment
To be one with the midnight sky
Escaping reality for a second
Knowing i'll be crashing right back into its arms

So i gripped the chains and stopped
Allowing gravity to pull me back from my thoughts
Now the galaxies seemed to looked farther and farther
Seemlessly miniscule for my sight

The sound of night has now reached my ears
The harsh air has now reached my lungs
The insanity of what i may have done has now reached my mind

I then descend downwards from my fantasy
Landing from my left then to my right
I felt the cold sand against my worn out shoes
As i walk away from the lonely swing

The lonely swing that once gave me thoughts of madness and wonder

Silent swing
Of rope and wood
Back and forth
While a young girl stood
Silent girl
Hands by her side
Remembering the past
When the swing was a ride
Watching
Remembering
Waiting
Contemplating
If she should snap the rope
Watching it fall to the ground
A tangle of past memories
Scream with no sound
Silent swing**
Hangs still of rope and wood
To remind her
Of the times that were good...

We were always taking scissors to our paper hearts—
Cutting shapes to let the light in,
Then throwing the scraps like confetti, though,
They fell more like rain.
We just wanted to feel something,
But now we're puppets without strings—
We spent so much time trying to get free,
We never dreamed of where we'd go,
Or if we'd go there together.
Now I'm tangled in your goodbyes and telephone wires;
There's a hole in my chest where yours used to touch.
I see your face when I look in the mirror,
As if I've forgotten whose shadow was sewn to the soles of my feet.
I carry you with me—maybe out of habit,
Maybe out of love.
To be honest, I can't tell them apart;
I don't think I ever could.
When you see the moon
Illuminate the fog,
Comforted by the creak of your porch swing,
Do you miss me?

I sat on your swing
and I kicked up my feet
You were pushing me softly
with the wind running through my hair
You started to pick up the pace
As I began to let go of the ropes
I trusted you
And the swing broke
And I cried
You sat and watched
for a minute or two
and then asked me to swing again
It's too late for that
Im not a child anymore
and the playground isn't my friend