Heart of the Swing

Dangling swing, loosely from an end

The gardener thrust the shovel in it's flank 

to push it aside.

I can't cry but I shall share my woe

to the two endearing souls

when for rakshabandhan they

come home.

He heard my whimper and sneered.

They won't come now

you keep hanging here

till the new owner tears

your shreds, comfort yourself at 

scrap garage.

The sellers croon and groan 

to pay nothing for your 

dishevelled appearance, 

clanging you side to side

to test your might.

Poor swing just lolled at the harsh words 

and the future yet untold.

It still felt the breeze

it still felt the cries`

me first, me first, they would fight.

But I was just big to hold them both right.

Hours together they stayed in his lap.

He stroked them gently through the whispering

air around.

Hushed a lullaby almost at dusk.

Gently they would play him and leave behind a cheerful smile.

The house stronghold shatters, 

brother fought the brother

the story of swing remains untold.

Car stops, hearken the voices, who came

but the sister, salvages the household

brings it to pristine glory retold.

One last time she gives up everything 

just for the dangling swing, laden with memories

untold.

Calls them both and ties the dangling end.

Together they mend the broken fence

Together they sit and tie the sacred ends.