I am old and worn blue plastic, with rusty metal chains
I sit and wait in the soothing sounds of nature.
Here, you come to find solace in me.
I swing you up high in the sky, ignoring the ache in my joints,
And I take pleasure in the laughter that bubbles from your lips.
As we sway, dancing in the wind,
You listen to the creak of my joints and slow our dance.
I watch you walk away, you don’t come back.
Through rain, snow and blistering winds,
I cling to the rotting wood,
Waiting for someone to join me in my dance.
But now, the only dance I take part in
Is by the wind, cold and harsh, warm and slow.

My old, tired arms can’t hold me or my dance partner up anymore.
Exhausted, I break down, falling into the mud,
Never to dance again.