As I Sat on a Swing By Stellar84 -------------------------------------------------------------- This poem belongs to me, Emily. All rights reserved. Please, no duplicating, copying, or distribution without my consent. -------------------------------------------------------------- As I was passing down our deserted street From my way back from school I came across an empty playground That I used to think was "cool" The swings creaked wearily As they swung with the breeze But the deserted area seemed so cold For it filled me not with ease Yet, slowly I set down my books My backpack and homework, too And eased myself into that empty seat Looking up into a sky of endless blue There I sat for a little while And my thoughts began to trail away As the movement soothed my troubled feelings My mind began to stray I saw a girl not three years old Staring out the door And her dog lying very still Against the cold, dark floor I saw a girl of only five Who could play the piano so well And people clapped, cheered, and smiled Almost as if that song could cast a spell I saw a girl yet older still Who worked away at home And friends were few and far between For her life was like a tome I saw a girl whose values changed As the years went passing by A girl who knew not what to do As all her friends broke their ties I saw a girl who grew so cold For no one seemed to care Which just left her more alone And no feelings were left to spare Then the world turned around And I saw where this girl was going What I saw was one just one way Outcomes that life was showing I saw a women of thirty years Who just kept on with her work Who rarely spoke of how she felt Who people thought was a jerk So here I sat on the swing Swaying from high to low Like a pendulum in the wind Never actually voicing what I know So obvious was the past and future So obscure was my life The things I did or did not see Gave me just more reason for my constant strife And as I stopped my swinging I began to contemplate How one’s life is like this swing To start early, or end way too late With a running start, you push yourself Striding fast ahead Forging towards a specific goal When then you change your mind instead Back you would simply go To the starting line And push yourself yet again Continuing to the end of time If I stopped myself at the lowest point It would end my dream And decide that this is completely wrong No matter what it might hold or seem Or I could forge ahead Swinging high above Others just looking and watching Waiting so that they may push and shove And if I should try to jump at that point While lifted to that higher state I could fall with broken bones Or land softly with a promising fate And as I sat there on that swing I began to realize That things were not always what they seemed And might turn out to be a surprise