the creek water splashed onto my toes,
as we trampled along tiny kingdoms
of algae and tadpoles.
we made it to the tire swing,
and I pushed you skyward,
and we’d laugh for a while.
it always faded away, though,
and our chatter fell to the wayside,
just swingin’ and sighin’.
eventually, we stopped the charade
of adolescent days,
and the swing filled with rainwater and
rot.
i came back to the creek, today,
the creekbed dry, filled with detritus,
the lone kingdom remaining one of dirt,
decay.
the tire had detached from the rope,
and lay neatly against the tree trunk,
and I tried to swing with just the frayed strands.
for one moment, I went skyward,
and I thought of you,
and then I returned to the dirt.
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