Two Stoics on the Swing Set Elana Williams

Firm hands, still small, freckled, grasp the rusty chains of the swing out back.

Your knuckles are white; this was before the swings fell down.

Like the ships you read about that wreck in silence

on foreign beaches.

I ask you if your grip will ever loosen,

if the deckhands still feel relieved to find land, though their ship is in pieces.

You glance up, soft eyes, and say you both still have plenty to hold on to.


Created with images by EvelynGiggles - "swing" • Detmold - "sunset mood sea" • RodneyRamsey - "Shipwreck" • ulricaloeb - "Drömlandet"

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