120 the swing

Posted on January 19, 2016 by Ken Greenman

living isn’t molded.
it grows like oak
up and out
stretching sunward
gnarled, rough, knotted,
scared with loves initials,
its branches weighted down
with two-by ply houses, swings
and fraying ropes
to run to, grasp,
fly free from
into the lake,
squealing!

Unknown's avatar

About Ken Greenman

Married and Happy. Retired and busy. Living in NC. 71 and counting. December 12, 2025 and it's 77! ... I would love some written comments, critiques, adulation or kind suggestions.... If you have the time and or inclination, please feel free! Not in fear but by faith. We will see. See you later! If you ever want to talk for real, email me and I will send you my cell number.... I am enjoying this!
This entry was posted in Poems. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a comment