The Swing

By Grace Courtauld ‘23

I sit on a swing

A cold metallic black. Swing,

which slowly shakes in the distant and powerful wind. 

People run around the park as I sit on the. Swing,

I start moving my legs, the magical city below me.

I move faster. Faster! The clouds are soft, wispy, I can feel them 

the wind becomes stronger and stronger 

And colder and colder as I move faster and faster,

but all I feel is. Warmth. 

I stop in the sighing sky. I am a goddess looking down at my creation.

It’s stupendous but then I drop, drop, drop,

and then I stop. 

When my feet touch the ground

I’m Back.

Photo by Jun-Young Hong ‘20