[Poem] Rust of the Swings

The fresh breath of the air 

After rain, and the flower, 

The leaves, the familiar 

Scents so clear, 

Crisp and sharp, 

The rust of the swings. 

The slow pace 

Of a house 

Surrounded by stone, 

Grass, sand and time 

Passed by far too slowly, 

Smiles too, came easily. 

That was the life we had, 

And I want so bad; 

When the young and the old, 

Living hand in hand, 

So happy, 

And ghosts were still people. 

The turning of the pages, 

Of photographs with ages, 

Brings about heartaches, 

As memories 

Bring the past alive, 

Recounting our losses.

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