Swinging In Backyards Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Swinging in back yards and listening to oldies,
straining from a transistor radio whose batteries
are getting a little low.

Kicking up dust, standing in the hallway of deepest
wishes, waiting to be kept and written in sands of
time.

Lying back, feet high, looking to the sky,
imagining all sorts of things as clouds float by
this swing.

Clicking and tapping with the music blaring,
then it dies and stops.