Sunday, June 21, 2009

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!

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