After school
when everybody had gone home
I saw one swing still moving.
Not much.
Just enough to keep moving.
The chains made that little sound
they make
when no one is laughing
and no one is waiting a turn
and the blacktop is going gray.
I do not know why I stood there.
It was only a swing.
It was only wind.
But the whole playground looked different
without us in it.
Smaller maybe.
Or sadder.
Or maybe more honest.
I went home before dark.