Poetry

Afternoon in an empty park

The sun rests on my eyelids as I lie back,

the woven rope of the round swing-seat supporting my neck and spine

as I sway to and fro,

legs kicking out for momentum.

A cradle I’m rocking myself,

an afternoon whose warm hands soothe me without effort

and the breeze whispering its encouragements in my ears.

So this is what it means to relax.

Advertisements