by Rita Wiebe

Created on: December 21, 2008

The old swinging tire hangs
Abandoned through the seasons
From a tall tree my brother used to climb
When we were young.

The leaves fall swirling
Like snowflakes to the ground
While the wind pushes the tire
And phantom children laugh.

Dust collects inside
While snow piles up on top
And the old tire remembers
Chubby legs clinging to its rubber.

Sunshine caresses silver webs
As butterflies kiss the dew of dawn
And the tire shivers in envy at the toboggan
Sliding down a distant hill.

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