In a park
Lonely and rusted
Resides a metal swing
And on this swing sat many children
All with fabulous dreams

Throughout the years
They came and went
Hating their memories with dread
But one little girl
With hair like coal
Wishes hers wouldn’t be dead

The only child
To not regret
Her dreams of the past
The poor little girl
That wants her memories
While everyone else forgets

In a park
Lonely and rusted
Resides a metal swing
And on this swing sits an older girl
With eyes of fearful green

So what’s the moral of this poem
Well there’s a lot you see
Maybe it is just to remind you
Of that metal swing