Poetry Writings Artwork and stories from Neil Furby

The rusty swing creaks in the evening air

 birds  around sing  around the  sound

 

grass below grabbing at the poles 

pulling down down down

 

swing users long gone long gone

to lives of rigid  dream scapes

 

children bound thenselves  pushing swings

their own reliving their own swing time

 

 back and forth back and forth

birth and birth and birth and birth

 

till on to the final slide up the steps

slide down slide slide down 

but no return no return

 

 N Furby