On A Swing
I was sitting on a swing,
I was on a high,
The fresh air blowing in my face,
As I moved towards the sky.
I was on the red swing,
The red swing in the park,
The one made of leather,
The swing with a slight arc.
As I went up and down,
Sitting on the swing,
I felt like I was flying,
Without the need of wings.
Every child enjoys,
Sitting on a swing,
And when I sat on one,
A happy tune I began to sing-
"Every day when I sit here,
And my time I bide,
I feel I'm really lucky,
To enjoy this wonderful ride."
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Comments about this poem (On A Swing by Varun Sivashankar )
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