That Old Swing Set Poem by Kristen Brewster

Shall I catch the tears your eyes spill out
or the words that hurl towards me.

I sit on the swing set we used to play on.
Waiting for you to return.
For when you have enough sense to remember
who gave you love.

It creaks, the old swing set
in the middle of the park.
I sit alone, listening to the breeze play with my mind
trying to trick my ears into believing that you will come back.

Twelve years I visit that old swing set
Twelve years I am waiting
for your solemn face
to be turned new again.

I am sitting today, on the swing set that is,
listening to the story we have made.
Footsteps crunch leaves ahead of me and my eyes shift upwards
The distant face smiles sadly at me as I point to the
empty swing next to me.