The Swings

Meeting my younger self in a dream.

Lost inside a peaceful dream, I suddenly saw my face

Years younger in another time in some forgotten place

Resting at a playground, sat no else but me:

A child on a rusty swing, moving quietly

Then I walked up to my former self, astonished at the sight

Past and present introduced; two wayward souls unite

I took a spot right next to me and started swinging, too

Taking in the subtle breeze and memories in review   

The boy; his random, wandering thoughts; a dreamer too naive

The man; his constant worries flow; digesting things to grieve 

And both of us were quite content to swing without a word 

The creaking chains flowed back and forth, our feelings went unheard

But finally, I braced myself and looked down at the child

A hint of sadness in my heart, but yet I stared and smiled

Then slowly I got up and knelt, eye-level with my past

Ready to confront my fears, to let it out at last

Then harboring the triumphs and regrets of days gone by

I asked these heavy questions and then waited for reply

“Am I what you had wished for, the man you’d hoped to be?

“Or did I disappoint you? Are you proud that you’ll be me?  

But the boy just sat with sparkling eyes and smiled at the thought

Humored by the way adults could live life so distraught

“Hey, don’t worry. It’s OK. You tried the best you could.”

“No one’s perfect, don’t you know? If not, I think you should.”

With that he laughed, gave me a hug, and disappeared from sight

And I awoke from this brief dream, knowing he was right. 

Life is hard, mistakes abound, but so do love and friends

We might as well enjoy the ride before the swinging ends