The Swing
I hope that all who read this can understand what is behind the words, although I do not think it possible to truly understand until you yourself have sat in my fathers' swing...come by anytime :) The Swing Skillfully crafted. The wood, hand chosen. The stain, just the right color. The hardware, carefully picked. A swing was born. Hung between birch trees, swaying in the wind. Children laugh, even sleep. Adults relax. A beautiful piece of work. Moved to a patio where a baby was rocked. Laughter continued. But then, the patio had to come down... A tree stood strong. Its branches reached high. A perfect place for a swing. Laughter returned. A place to go for peace, to unwind. To seek solitude from the noise. Birds chirping all around. A place to cry; a place to laugh. A place to listen to the wind through the leaves. A place to read, a place to write; A place to swing. A place for many, a place for one, Sitting in the swing Built by my father’s hands. -Happy Fathers Day, Dad!