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I sit upon a swing
an old tyre tied
to the towering gum tree
all the leaves hustle and push
to get a peek
of silly old me
legs reaching the sky
head tilted back
as the breeze rushed on by
weaving through my hair
I swing on the old tyre swing
legs kicking high
a moment I shall remember
in years to come
when a grown man swinging on an old tyre swing
will be frowned upon
nor will I be able to kick the ground
and launch into he sky
and I swing higher and higher
not yet aware what this moment means
or the echo of my smile
I am just a child
upon a silly swing.

(Image courtesy of madpoet_one on flicker: http://www.flickr.com/photos/madpoet_one/)