The Autumn Swing Poem by Anne Yun

The swing under that old tree
is an autumn belonging still
a child thing hang for thrill
lonely, with no one to share its joy

repeat in the mossy string
its years long moaning
where have you been?
where have you been?

I have been to dreams
after fantasy find a way
I have been waiting for a day
like the colorful foretime

winging me to sun and stars
to their beams near or far
days that are there no longer
nights that are there no longer

life is a certain possibilty
everyone is a reflection of me
where have i been?
where have i been?