Thank you, Anni. Maybe I'm a masochist because I do like making things difficult for myself. I considered rhyming each line as well, but that was a bridge too far. Perhaps next time...
Swing low, sweet chariot,
squealing in the currents of air,
echo the wild shrieks of children,
“Higher, Daddy, higher!”
as the world speeds by,
launching us to the sky,
wind playing in our faces
and daily cares forgotten.
Line count: 8
Free verse
For Express Ity In Eight, 05.10.22
Prompt: Photo of old, deserted swing set.
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