Nostalgia or: Swings at Dusk

In that place
there was a willingness
to simply
swing as high as you could
let go
and maybe
just maybe
you could get away with
never coming down.


Two poems regarding swings in the same week! Crazy! No.
For those of you who care this is the result of something I like to call poem mining. I write this rambling mess of a poem that I don’t like. I finish it and then I find the bits and pieces that I do like, piece them together and make something of them. Its like repurposing a mini keg into a lamp. Or, like having fun with words, which is always nice.

Til tomorrow.


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