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Porch Swing
By Sonya Li

I am the old rickety porch swing
That hangs in your backyard.
My rusty, vine-tangled chains
Was your best friend, your guard.

You would sit on my lap,
Grasp my arms, pump your legs.
You would sail through the air,
“Higher!” you would beg.

You’d touch the wispy clouds,
Softly stroke the moonlight.
Your breath would linger in the air,
You’d giggle with delight.

Then one day, you left me.
Stayed inside, gone, hidden.
My chains were left to rust,
Your goodbyes unwritten.

Since then, I’ve become a nothing,
Hanging to a dying tree.
Your laughter is my cure,
Your grip will comfort me.

I live to be with you.
But you never come back.
So I wait here, I watch you,
For friends is what I lack.

I secretly wish for one last swing,
A last dance through the sky,
Just one more leap to the moon,
One last chance to fly.