She watched a little girl play
lonely in the forsaken park
beneath the cold sky
every now and then from her balcony
she’d spy the girl swing her little feet
pushing higher and higher the swing
and she’d wonder where her people be
that every morning the girl would be
swinging like a monkey, or sliding like the sea
by herself, rustling up brown leaves
beneath small feet.

Then one morning she took her shovel
and her plastic bucket
and said let’s go mum, to the park
across the street.
Then when she arrived
tightly snuggled in layers
the little girl smiled across from her hiding place
vanishing into thin air
the swing still slightly swinging.


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