She looks out across
The pale, misty sky
As she sits upon
Her swing so high
Her feet, they dangle
In the air
As she slowly sways
Without a care
She wants nothing more
Than to swing all day
She’s never had a desire
To run or play
The feel of the wind
As through the air she flows
Just as in life -
In death, is all she knows
© Copyright E.F. Rose 11.14.13