The Old Chair

Hanging from the old oak tree on the old wooden swing I swayed like a bird who is free no rules to obey just a young child at play Going so close to the ground rising up to the sky soaring high in the air seeing everything nearby on this old wooden chair with plenty of time to spare With each moving sway my long brown hair wraps around my neck every now and then giving my nose a gentle slap on this old wooden chair the full feeling of the wind as it flows Oh how I wish I could go back to those years to just disappear for even only a moment to the old wooden chair and to be so young and unaware. T Reams 3/25/2015