freedom

House of Heart

In the sweet summer

below the rusty fasteners of

an old swing I pump the air

with the  spindly legs of childhood,

dream my wide eyed dreams of whirling

pathways to the beckoning sun.

My heart leaps at the sight of a brilliant

rainbow and with small fingers I reach up

to swathe its colors over a blue palette  sky.

Now I know about life, the real truth of it.

Now I know the swing is just freedom.

View original post