Please review and tell me whether this is poetry or prose. |
As I walked through the woods a long time ago, I came upon an old broken swing And I wondered and wondered Who had sat on that old broken swing. Well, I asked and I asked Everyone that I saw If they knew that swing in the woods. Until at long last An old woman replied, "Yes, I know the swing that you mean. "When I was a child I would swing there for hours And reach for the stars in the sky. I never thought Any star was too far For my little child hands to reach. Then when I grew older, I dropped childish play Yet still went and visited my swing. I sat and dreamed girlhood's dreams As I looked at the stars in the sky, But I no longer reached for the stars. And I grew still older, And rarely went back To the spot that I used to love well. But when I would go, I would try to forget all my cares Caused by this troublesome world. Burdened down was I, And soon forgot How to reach for the stars in the sky. And I grew still older, And now I realize That when I was young I was right. There never are any stars too high To reach for, provided you know how. So reach for the stars while you can Before you're like me, old and gray. Reach for the stars as long as you can Before they all fade away." As I listened to her tell her story, I thought of my old childhood home Where I used to reach for the stars On clear summer nights long ago. And now I, too, am old and gray, And can no longer swing for the stars. But you, dear listener, can still reach, So reach for as long as you can, So that when you are old and can no longer swing, You will still have the stars in your hand. |