WORDS OF THE LIVING
(PARK SWING)
Tied up twine
Plastic perch
Squeal with each silly swing
So much joy, the swing did bring
Legs out front
Arms thrown behind
My father pushes into my back
A gentle breeze is all I lack
As I hang over the coloured tarmac
The sound of a squeaking see-saw
Running feet, the sound, I meet
Bushes watch, a pale green
The park, one of my favourite places I have been
The biggest slide, I've ever seen
My trainers nearly touch
The stray segments
Of the ground
But I rise into the air
Swinging as it squeaks and groans
Giving off screams and moans
Rusting rings
Rotating
Clinging on, never breaking
Not complaining, at the strain it was taking
YOU ARE READING
Words Of The Dead- Words Of The Living- #Wattys2019
Poetry#1 in poetry- 26/7/18 Every day, thousands of people struggle with mental and physical illnesses, fighting battles people refuse to talk about. I'm here to change that. This poetry collection shines a light on mental illness, hopefully saving a few...
