The Swing of Technology
The swing set of childhood.
Liquorice seats, parallel chains
and double dates*.
We swung high and low
in an evergreen forest.
Trails of breadcrumbs behind us**.
Our hands grazed the sky.
Our legs pumped effortlessly.
Our smiles, wider than ever.
Years flying by,
their hands reached their phones
and their smiles had long gone.
They swung beside no one,
watching their reflections on screens
and the new Netflix series.
They twist up the chains,
for the ride of their lives
Letting go all they get is clutter, clank, clink.
Emotions are ghosts.
Legends unheard of, untouched
Staying put in a grave, far too much.
All alone we swing
Our face as our phone.
We’re nothing more,
than weaved pieces of bone.
*When you’re in sync with someone else that’s swinging parallel to you
**Referencing Hansel and Gretel
Karolina – great poem and visual! Love the repetition and sound devices.