The alone swing

It’s sunny, alone she swings
It’s cloudy, alone she swings
It drizzles, alone she swings
It rains, alone she swings
In the day, alone she swings
In the evening, alone she swings
Through the seasons, alone she swings.

The small secluded playground
The lone swing
Her slight youth apparent
Each swing high, metrical, determined
He imagines her wants
Her daydreams to juvenile Utopia?
Her escapes from adult Dystopia?

He is a distanced onlooker
He does not find her daily compulsion strange.
He envies her
If her manner is to clutch a little freedom in tethered flight.
He understands
If her method is to briefly disconnect from fear.
He hopes at the least she is safe

He was there without the swing
Disquieted of the time, weather, predicament
A cold rock to sit upon for company and comfort,
Or a climb up a wet tree for added distance
Escape from the tempest pro tem
Always returning numb to the debris
To await the next time