tire swing

Tire Swing

The Tire Swing

The tire swing sits empty
Swaying in the breeze,
Wonder where those children are
Who used to play and tease?

The tree is strong and steady
The rope holds the tire yet
Wonder where those children are
Who often played ‘til sunset?

A bed of leaves is ready
To catch them if the fall
Wonder where those children are
Who used to have such a ball?

The air is crisp, the sky is blue
Those children change and grow
Yet soon they will stop by
For one last ride before the snow.

Poem by Marge McCoy
Photo by Ruth Diane Handley Domigan

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