It was just a child’s swing, one lovingly rigged on the clothesline pole by her dad,

But on that swing, happiness would take over, her world rid of anything sad.

And on that combination of rope and small slab of wood, she would swing high,

Dreaming of all kinds of things as she giggled and watched a butterfly fly.

When she started school, the playground held many a child’s delight,

But her favorite was the swing, a big swing where she could almost take flight.

She kicked, hoping to swing higher and higher, to escape earthly confines,

Flying as the birds, winging about and then landing on the branches of tall pines.

The little girl grew, year-by-year, eventually having children of her own,

And silently, she watched them swing, and recalled times she had almost flown.

When times got hard or rough, she wanted to retreat to that swing of long ago,

The one her dad had lovingly fashioned on the end of the clothesline pole.

Often, she sought the innocence and solace of that time, that place and that swing,

But all that was past, and no amount of wishing or hoping could ever bring

Back those days of juvenile trust when she believed one day she’d actually fly,

Letting loose all inhibitions, kicking that swing so very high, high into the sky.

Now, she knows she will one day truly fly, up to God’s Paradise in the sky,

And forever live with Him, and maybe have a swing up there, one already on high.