What Can I Do About the Empty Swing

What can I do about the empty swing

Or the heartache I feel when others sing

The song she loved above all the rest

Or eat the custard pie she liked best

Or smell roses she planted one spring?

What do I do with the years to come

Which must now belong only to some

But not to her who I loved so much

Whose beauty I can no longer touch?

Whose goals and dreams are left undone?

How can I force all the world to see

Life’s fleetness and its fragility

That is the unique beauty of falling flake

Or the red shadows cast by day’s break

Happen but once in reality?

I can write songs for others to sing

About the miracles of each spring,

The soft surprise of a sudden rain,

Or rabbits playing along a lane.

But what do I do with that empty swing?

Marcia F. Alig, TCF Mercer Area Chapter 

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