Swinging on a Dream

“There is no better view than the view from a swing.”   — author unknown

Empty Swing by Petr Kratochvil

Swinging on a Dream

She curled her tiny fingers around the thick, rough rope,
sat gingerly on the smooth, flat board hanging from her favorite tree
and began to move,
pushing off with her feet from the sandy mound beneath the tree,
then pumping her legs back and forth slowly at first
momentum rising with her as she moved higher and higher
until the ruffles on her pink dress moved in a rhythmic pattern
and the green leaves came closer and closer,
so high now the squeak began, the rope rubbing on the branch,
as she flew back and forth, strands of blond hair
blowing out behind her,
and she began to dream again her favorite dream
that maybe beyond the trees
up where the blue sky peeks through the branches,
there was a kingdom where princesses waited for their princes
and fairy godmothers protected the little ones from all harm.
She held on tightly wondering for a minute if she should simply let go
just in case there was room there
for one more princess in a soft pink dress,
there in a place where she could finally feel safe.
The swing began to slow, her legs resting now
until her feet landed softly in the dust
and she sat a little while longer there on her swing
reluctant to leave
alone with her fear.

© Barbara Flass 2012


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