This wooden swing, looking weather beaten and tired holds the memories of happy moments past gone and sad moments still to come. It blows with the wind letting itself be taken by its continuous movement. The tree that the swing is tied to has been their longer than time can remember. Its branches are strong with wrinkled bark that falls off in small scabs like the dry skin of an old man. The leaves that change colour with the season are a dull green. They seem to loose their colour as the day wears on. Leaves move, bend with the wind and rain. Heavy water droplets drizzle down the trunk of the tree and fall heavily on the seat of the swing. Their so old, so tired, they’ve given up trying any more.

Viewing the window from the other side, looking up at the towering windows that loom abo

Her eyes, a dull grey cant hide the way they look at everything with a downcast feel. Things must have been painful then. She lowers her eye lids wishing it all to go away, the swing still swinging in the wind, the tree still old and wise, and still she stand there without a word to anyone. Her pale face has no wrinkles, only lines of sadness acquired from many nights of crying herself to sleep. Her dark brown hair hangs tangled over her shoulders and around her face, shadowing the edges of her pale skin from whatever sunlight might be able to fight its way through the dense infestation of angry clouds that are always present. Silent worries rest upon her red lips that will never speak again and once again everything seems the way it should be. It seems right that she will never feel her face crease with a smile, or throw her head back in vigorous laughter ever again. It just seems fitting that she is destined to be alone.

ve all else, stands a girl. Alone is she, her head resting heavily on the windows edge, eyes looking out over the small garden, and eventually resting on swing moving madly in the weather as the grey light falls upon on side of her face leaving the other half in darkness, the way she liked it. She drags up a frail hand and ge

Some topics in this essay:
Special Violent, happy moments past, moments past, window pane, happy moments, wooden swing,