Aoife Poem by Paddy Glackin

The red swing sways silently waiting
Tied in tune into the sturdy sycamore
Lopping awkwardly on the breeze side to side
Shuffling like a teenager learning to waltz

Unlike last week when the curly child
English twanged, higher, level with the branch
Pumping her skinny legs in and out
Gaining momentum higher and higher

Deserted now, ghostly silent, creaking
The curly girl disrupting elsewhere
Causing mayhem and noise and Life
The swing like me awaiting her return

The shared moment never will return
The red plastic, fading to pink
The curly girl four and a half
Bald me sixty one and a quarter