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Beside an Acacia tree

Little girl swings with glee

 Higher, higher for eyes to see

 Another place where she can be

Sitting on an old plank of wood

A shadowy figure stood

 In front of the innocent one

 "Silly swinging!", not to be done

Stole a little time to be a child

So sad to have an adult mind

 No more dolls, no more tin drums

 No laughing, no room for silly hums

Little girl cries at such sorrow

 In her pillow, her face is burrowed

 "I hate this life, I hate her"

 Tells herself she can't go any further

Pots cleaned, floors to be mop

A simple mistake equals a heavy slap

 She touches her bruised cheeks

 She is helpless and so weak

Beside an Acacia tree

 Little girl swings with no glee

 Higher, higher not to see

 Another place where she can't be

Beside a maple tree

Woman swings with glee

 An act which is silly

 Higher, higher for her eyes to see

 A place where she is now free

I glanced up the sky to count the clouds which look like rabbits, dinosaurs and dolphins and .............

 © Hazel Toquero