The swing

I watched you wander off, let you go
Despite the fact I was well aware how young
And adventurous you were….

I saw the swing before you reached it
Before you even made contact with it
I knew it would strike you…

Yet no signal went off in me
To pull you back, nor inform you
I remained, still, passive…

Made no attempt to save you
From an injury I could have prevented….

I had some idea, spent my time think
What would happen, what would it me like…
If you ran into its path…
And so it collided with your small form…

And part of me thought
A lesson for you, a deservervence delivered of sorts

Then I heard your crying and your screams….

And no-body knows to this day…
Not even you….

I recall a time where brother
Had his head hung over the shore…

And sour milk upon him I did pour…

For I could not suppress the mounting urge in my youth
Towards such misbehaviours
To make that so…