A rope swing hanging from an old oak tree
When I spied idle dandling there, it inspired a
desire in me
My dad had hung it there when I was a little
girl
I can still hear his laughter as he watched my
bouncy curls
I swung so many days with no earthly cares at all
The swing sat patiently during summer, spring, and fall
Now I’m a grown woman, and the swing still calls my name
That feeling in the pit of my stomach as I swing is the same
year after year, the swing remained intact for girls
and boys
Today as I spy my Oaktree swing, I think it’s
still my favorite childhood toy
