Empty Swing


On a front porch a swing sits empty,
As a breeze pushes it forward and back,
Not having it’s own movement,
With the rider’s that it lacks,
Has it become just an adornment,
It’s purpose somehow gone,
And all the memories that it contains,
Now and forever ride along.
You could call it just an empty chair,
Suspended from the porch ceiling,
Yet why when glimpsed in any place,
Does it leave the senses reeling,
I close my eyes and see that swing,
Two figures sitting on it’s seat,
And I’m transported to the scene,
With a memory I can’t defeat.
A hint of pears lives in the air,
That light perfume you wore,
A blanket covering goosebumped legs,
Arm in arm once more,
Taking turns to make it move,
Though at times just sitting still,
Watching lightning bugs show the way,
With the thought they always will.
Hearing crickets in the night,
And hating that the swing gets wet,
Expecting this smile to disappear,
But with you it hasn’t yet,
Watching shadows come alive,
As darkness extends it’s hand,
Keeping together all we found,
Both in the woman and in the man.
I’ve even traveled to that very spot,
And the swing is on that porch still,
In the darkness I imagine it full,
And in this heart I always will,
It’s motion seems to soothe the soul,
Because love lives on it’s seat,
As a heart holds on to the memory,
That each day I hope will repeat.
That swing may not have riders,
Yet it still carries hopes and dreams,
It carries things forever more,
As in this man the need still screams,
Does it swing to or from,
What can it.s movement bring,
So much living though unseen,
On that porches empty swing.

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