Swinging Tree Poem by Annia Rosa

She and me,
We made our place
With swinging tires
And high-fly race—
And dreams of where to go
Took refuge with our swinging tree—
This was our sacred oath

He and I,
I saw him once,
Loitering around,
Hands in his pockets
And staring at the ground
And once I asked to play with him
But he was tired and gray,
And then there was that painful part
When summer'd gone away

She and me,
We came back when
Our learning was then done
Took refuge where we once had been
Where all this had begun

He and I,
I never saw, no longer did we meet
For there, my sacred swinging tree
He swung, so gracelessly
And all the world and all the days
Could never then again
Bring back my sacred swinging tree
For now that man was dead.