“Memories, like the corners of my mind
Misty watercolor memories
Of the way we were”Gladys Knight And The Pips – Way We Were Try To Remember
In the sweet summer
below the rusty fasteners of
an old swing I pump the air
with the spindly legs of childhood,
dream my wide eyed dreams of whirling
pathways to the beckoning sun.
My heart leaps at the sight of a brilliant
rainbow and with small fingers I reach up
to swathe its colors over a bluepalette sky.
Now I know about life,the real truth of it.
Now I know the swing is just freedom.
(copyright H. Rene Hunter)
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Wonderful poem. It somehow juxtaposes nicely with your blog.
Maybe it’s the “freedom” of the swing.
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Thank you so much Dennis!
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