The Magic Of Our Swing Poem by Lynn W. Petty
The Magic Of Our Swing
I bought an old Victorian swing, with latticework atop,
All made with lath, and painted white.
The facing benches are connected with a foot platform,
Which cause the seats to swing in tandem.
It is amazing how we spend our evenings now.
We sit for several hours in the patio, talking
About our sixty-plus years of marriage,
And what has transpired over time.
The intimacy of conversation, the closeness of ourselves
To each other has, though we thought it impossible,
Increased with each hour.
Sitting on the edge of night, we speak of those forgotten
Times of youth, first loves, romance, our love and all the
Intervening things that make up living.
We speak of age, that tender defoliation of life,
And the "what and when" of the inevitable.
The swing creates a train of combustible feelings, which light
Our souls with tenderness and passion. We speak volumes
Of what might never have been said, as if there were a dawning
On the smoldering gray ashes of our lives.
The flickering world of our autumn awakens with the bloom of each Other. The swing has restored our flagging sense of rest, found in the Eternal Truth, of life, love and the eloquence of living.
gee, not only was the verse very soothing, but it was also Free! (verse) i'd have to live and be married to my mate for over 50 MORE years to make it to where you and your beloved have gotten yourselves! ! ! i'd kill myself first, unless my mate did me the service, which she is probably tempted to do! ! ! not tempted ALL THE TIME! (i hope) maybe what we need is a swing? ? maybe you could send it this way when you are finished using it? to MyPoemList, of course, even though it is a bit lovely-dovey for my taste. hee-hee. bri ;) some favorite lines: Sitting on the edge of night, we speak of those forgotten Times of youth, first loves, romance, our love and all the Intervening things that make up living................edge of night in two ways i think. and ..............................We speak volumes Of what might never have been said, as if there were a dawning On the smoldering gray ashes of our lives.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 1:37:36 AM # 1.0.0.1119
p.s. your Poet's Notes says: The Poem says it all. ...........well, not quite. how much did the swing cost, including shipping, handling, and tax? ? ? maybe we could just visit the park's playground.