I hear you speak of my demise
–
because
like a swayback horse I
stand,
bowed at the center,
in your backyard.
How proudly I once stood with
my unweathered wood,
shiny silver chains hanging
like necklaces
with yellow and blue seats
inviting your daughters
to come
take a seat.
This is where they learned,
reach out, pull back
reach out, pull back
reach out, pull back.
Great job girls!
I remember you sitting next
to them
pumping too.
Who would be the first to
reach
the tips of the leaves?
What times we had!
Now
my
seats sit still
unless moved by the wind
my wood is weakened by age
and so you speak
of my demise
dismantle and
chop
into
pieces
into
pieces
for Monday morning
pick-up.
What
a send-off.
pick-up.
What
a send-off.
Today's suggested form from NaPoWriMo.net was to write a persona poem, which means to write from the perspective of a person or thing.
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