The Red Swing Set 

by Brianna Coleman

A yellow swing swaying in the breeze.

The concrete placed in the bottom poles starting to wear

which makes the whole set shake when in use.

The poles starting to rust at the tops,

where white caps placed over the holes are filled with angry bees.

Two small rings dangling down,

which I had broke in an attempt of “extreme spinning.”

The red monkey bars placed in the middle

where once pillows laid across in hopes of a pretend bed

to hide from the coyotes and bears,

where I would stand and wave my arms at overhead planes,

imagining I was stranded on a deserted island.

A tire suspended from a thin white rope

where I would float on my belly

or get stuck in when my mom yelled it was time for dinner.

Now an empty patch of grass

with an impression burned in my mind

of hours spent during my childhood.