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August 23 My Wooden SwingGently toying with its hanging ropes
the old wooden swing rocked back and forth.
On days it rocked with the mirth of youth
but now it rocks with...the sting of memories...
The worn-out ropes once held my tears
once violently shook with my laughter
Neither rain nor sun could keep me away
from jumping atop my wooden swing.
It was mine, my solace, my wooden swing.
But now i'm older, and it stands alone
melancholy draping over its ropes
as it swings....
swings with the wind...
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