I’ll never look at the swings without thinking of you
The way our worn down shoes
would lightly scrape the chestnut wood chips below
As our legs pumped violently back and forth in unison
Like cogs in a machine propelling us
Forward
And backward
Completely still in relation to one another
The tips of our toes
reaching toward the sky above us
Where the pitch black ink had spilled
over the previously tangerine sky
Silver sparkles scattered about
Twinkling aimlessly
Appearing endless with no dimension
The crescent moon being the distant lightbulb
Casting our shadows onto the playground
Your crystal blue eyes would lock with mine
And the wind would swirl beneath your sandy hair
As my scrunchie struggled to hold mine together
The swings would reach up
As the blackness swallowed us whole
Transporting us to our own world
Separate swings
But one movement
Bonded together
Like the metal of the chains keeping our swings
From touching the ground beneath us