The Old Swing-Set [Poem]

That old swing-set
was young when I was young,
its shoulders fresh painted
and its swings not yet deep rust-set.

We made fast friends,
that old swing-set and I,
though he sometimes threw me from his shoulders
knocking my knees and dusting my hands

That swing-set’s hands are splintered
and I visit my old friend with calloused hands
to find his swings gone and his paint chipped
from when I was away those many, many winters.

I climb his side with a book in hand,
as I once did when I was younger,
and I read all afternoon with my old friend
in the shadow of the boy I was – now a man.

At DVerse, the prompt today is to write a poem recalling some specific thing or things from the past OR more generally about what evokes a memory or memories in you.

Photo by Tobias Kebernik on Unsplash

A Taste Like Regret [Poem]

Her lips taste like cigarette smoke

even from a thousand miles away.

Her eyes smolder whistfully in my memory like tobacco ashes,

ashes that her eyelids would flick deftly from her cheeks

to the pavement at random intervals

under both cloudy or clear skies.

Her soul burning slowly down to the filter

until there is nothing left

and whether cloudy or clear

the ash-touched sky

tastes like regret.

Photo by Peri Stojnic on Unsplash

On DVerse the prompt is to write about an emotion or abstract concept. What does it taste like?