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Rated: E · Poetry · Nature · #1381705
What does a child's swing-set feel when the weeds are overgrown? A prime poem
Alone/Never Alone


Alone.
Forgotten - gone.
Children, weeds grown
Each minding their own business.
Now my only companions are the wind
And ghosts of my memories that keep me in constant motion.
Rusty links in my chains providing the only laughter to fill the air.

Rain
Is now
The only creature
To slide down my limbs
And ivy the only to climb them.
Songs fill the air sung by birds coming for a rest -
Safe from the wind - alone, in pairs, or as a family.
There, squirrels chase each other running around and through my legs playing tag.

Above,
Dappled Sun
Lazily walks around
My demesne overseeing its children.
Reflecting on the rainbow of life which
Constantly surrounds me I now realize: the children, grown like weeds,
Are gone - but I am not at all forgotten and certainly never alone.


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