The Yellow Swing

The yellow plastic swing once hung 

From branches on a tree

And we would push our daughter there,

Not knowing what would be.

For when a baby’s young, the future’s

Filled with hope and dreams,

Yet every path ahead may not be

Easy as it seems.

Still, as she grew, our daughter stayed

A sweet and happy child

And always on that yellow swing,

She clapped her hands and smiled.

As years went by, she got too big

And couldn’t really fit.

The swing was placed inside the shed;

I never thought of it.

Until today, a cleaning spree 

And on a shelf, I found

That faded swing, no use at all

To anyone around.

I tossed it out, but it brought back

Those times from long ago

When I was so oblivious

To all I’d come to know.