The Sanctuary of Grandma’s Swing:

Trapped within my own flesh; balancing it’s torso on my two firm legs
I sat; buried in my tears, to wash away all my fears
The still dumb rock and still dumb life, carrying on with no smile
Inanimate was my life at age of eight, until that swing made me bloom

I swang with height and might, escaping everything that might ignite
For I fled the fears trapping me, for now was I one with the gale
I flew and ran with the gale, no longer would I stand to wail
For now I was free as a gale, swarming with no fear of what’s ahead

Dances the Aubourn leaves with joy as I glided through the air
Miracles of nature, oh, how I swarmed so free in my grandma’s garden
For only the swing, red as her lips, could make being a child so beautiful of an experience
For only, eight as I was, in her swing was I feeling so free

--Mobina H., 9th-12th Grade