Manceeeeeeep

I always equate summers with childhood -as a child I never remember being hot. For me the SWING is synonymous with Summer, Family and Memory.

My mother wrote & recited this poem to me growing up, &; we would swing:

“By grasping twin ropes in eager small hands & standing tall on my toes,
I came down with a flop on the old wooden board, & directed my efforts, to Slow to & Froes.
The leaves overhead rustled, as I pulled at the helm of my ship.
I gave them the eye as I took to the sky, promising half turns and dips!
Up Up & Away, touching the sky, feet high above the stone wall.
The swing in the tree was a space ship to me as I traveled to Rome & Bombay.
No time can erase my excursions in space and my childhood’s glorious days.”