The Oak And Swing Poem by Alexander Beebe

She sits alone for all to see
Out under wings of tall oak trees
She calls the names of those who pass
A place to rest, restore, relax

What will it take to bring them here
Too often passed without a glance
Her mighty host knows all to well
The pain of void upon her back

For once she too was covered with
The arms and legs of youthful souls
It made her smile and beam with pride
It gave her joy to watch them climb

But now she stands and holds the swing
Like new attire that no one sees
The oak and swing close company
But both feel sad like fallen leaves

For what’s the point of where they rest
If not to host their parting guests
Like ornaments upon the tree
That children hang but never see

They hold on to each other tight
And hope someday they both will find
The souls of those who thirst for rest
Where worry and trouble are left behind

For now the oak and swing must wait
Until such time that they are blessed
With smiles of those they once held near
Redeeming joy their wishful fait