Swinging In November Poem by Star Dust

This rusty old swing set is past its time,
I sway back and forth thinking of a rhyme,
Dead wood in splinters beneath my feet,
As I twirl in circles to a catchy beat,
I’m thinking of someone who’s stuck in my mind,
He’s everything right; he’s funny he’s kind,
I look over my shoulder with an impossible hope,
To see him walking down that steep slope,
But I can dream, cannot I?
I swing higher and my feet touch the sky,
My fingers are numb from clasping hard chain,
My ears are red but I don’t feel any pain,
As I glance up at a blurry silhouette,
They wave as if we’ve already met,
Yet their face doesn’t turn on a light,
I just stare guessing they’re just being polite,
I twirl some more,
And I can’t think of anything anymore,
Then him, then he,
Ugh, what has he done to me,
I guess I’m in love…