The swing

Upon the sturdy wooden seat,
A little girl, with flying feet,
Pumps high above the emerald green,
The happiest sight you've ever seen.
The chains, a steady, rhythmic creak,
As wind whips 'round her rosy cheek.
She arcs and dips, a graceful flight,
A fleeting bird in golden light.
The world below, a gentle blur,
No worry, just a whispered stir.
Higher and higher, to the sky,
A single giggle, soaring high.
Then slowing down, the gentle sway,
To end a perfect, sunlit day.
The swing is still, the moment passed,
A precious memory built to last.