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Swings | All Grown Up



Sneakers dug into dirt

Photo: Courtesy of CathyK

Let go, fly high

Taking this moment to revert –

Swinging to and fro.


Eyes closed, nostrils flared

Higher and higher, I persist

Leaving all behind, though scared…

Cold metal chains, firm in fist


Maintain my flow, nearly hypnotic…

Decades have passed, but I survive

Revisiting a time so chaotic

Up, up – must stay alive.


Was it when I scribbled my first check?

No, that can’t be when I grew…

Before everything was high tech?

No… I’m sorry, that’s untrue


Higher, higher, and here I go

Readying to take flight

When was I aware I’d grown?

Legs stretched, gather my might


Riding the back of the wind,

Bracing myself to come back down,

Yet refusing to be confined

No more pain or tears will I drown…


Years and strife, all this behind…

The answer is quite clear.

Age is not how I’m defined,

Tiny spark remains – year after year.


© Susan Reed




This poem was written in response to today’s Daily Post Prompt:

All Grown Up

When was the first time you really felt like a grown up (if ever)?

1 thought on “Swings | All Grown Up”

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