She used to sit on that swing every day.
Nobody was able to make her stay.
She loved to sway up and down.
She left her footprints all across town.
When she passed away, the swing stopped being used.
Her spirit comes back every now and then, with the look of confused.
Someone thought they saw her sitting there.
Maybe she was in spirit, her memories she loved to share.
A dusky faint smokey aura of her existence has been back here again.
She comes when we are all sleeping and sits on that swing, her tittering sounds she sends.
A joyous feeling is what we feel having her nearby.
I guess she came back to say goodbye.
©terrylin53
T