Life, will I ever?

Life,
it moves us along
at record speed.

I try to dangle
delicately,
occasionally letting
my feet scrape
against the ground.

And as I swing under
my beloved canopy,
I notice the poor old oak
has seen better days.

Brittle bark scatters
like tarnished snowflakes,
and the bough dips
against the weight
of my sways.

But do I stop?

No, I continue on
in careless destruction,
marring my protector
all while biding my time.

I’m still a child; after all,
I do not recognize
my mistakes;
will I ever?

© 2022 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/woman-swing-playground-trees-6722023/

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