There are far too few
people in this world who
appreciate the simplicity
of an old wooden swing.

Childhood memories
brush your skin and you
can feel that warm
spring yesteryear as if it
were today.

The sun sparkles off of
straight, pearly white
teeth, no longer
shattered by the
unnatural colors of
metal and rubber.

The wind tousles hair
and makes eyes water:
unprotected, yet as clear
as this truth.

The tracks in the mulch
are deeper, though not
much, from the minutes
after years of growth.