The Swing
That swing,
hanging from that tree,
by that lake…
That beautiful shiny lake,
way back then,
when we were free,
swinging up and flying,
starting off slow,
giggling to ourselves,
quietly,
after the push,
with gathering speed,
high, the wind in our hair,
laughing loudly,
taking to the sky,
lost in the clouds,
the trees,
the leaves,
the wind,
and your laughter.
When it was your turn,
I’d watch you do the same,
I’d push you just as high – no, higher…

That was then, way back then…
Now I watch the empty swing,
cold and dark in that unforgivable zone,
squeaking in the chilly wind.
A single word echoes in my head,
alone…
the heart is no longer light,
too heavy to fly,
to be free,
lost over the years,
lost the innocence,
lost the happiness…
Oh, what have we become?
I think I’ve drowned – or was that you?
Who is the one that died?
by Palice

_{Canon EOS 5D Mark III
EF24-105mm f/4L IS USM @ 40mm
1/200 sec; f/10; ISO 100
Single RAW image
PS CS6}