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Seasons
The children come in packs.
Some with parents
Others without one in sight
And they swing
As my bones creak and strain
Just so they can play
Even for just a second longer
And I am happy
The children leave
My bars become colder
The seat cracking and freezing
Noises echoing
The days dark
The snow suffocating
The children had left
It rains
Great torrents of water
Gushing, screaming, burning
away the dirt and sin
From the earth
I drip on the ground
As my silent tears come
Because the children have left
And I am alone
The children return
Older, wiser, happier
New ones appear
Gripping the chains with white knuckles
Afraid of falling
My embrace cradles them
As they gain confidence
And go higher and higher
Touching the sky
Drunk on their freedom
And I am happy
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Wrote this in like, 5 min. Just had the idea and started “scribbling.”