We rarely noticed
the slow stretch
of shadows, or loss
of the sun at dusk.
Back then, days lasted
for days.
Not a swing for solitude,
two bench seats faced
across a platform.
I clambered aboard
with six cousins,
a giddy effervescence
flickering through me
as the platform wobbled—
the pure sensation
of moving in a new way,
like a 3-D toy you wear—
then we’d ride
into the visions
we’d spin.
Back then, we couldn’t hear
the steady tick
of an escapement
or the turning
of the gears in our lives,
as the swing moved
back and forth
like the pendulum
of a grandfather clock.
Pam Lewis
Pam Lewis’ work has appeared in various regional and national publications. Now retired, she enjoys the many opportunities for learning, and the natural beauty of Madison, WI.
Portage Magazine 