Finished in June 2019

The Girl on the Swing 

By Zac Langridge 

I often see the girl on the swing 

Sitting there, staring into space 

Gently rocking backwards and forwards 

Her feet dangling inches off the ground 

Her hair is brown and her face is youthful 

But her eyes are something different 

Not like those of a child, teen or adult 

But something otherworldly, altogether 

Her pristine flesh is pale 

And she’s often dressed in white 

Not a speck mars her dress, blouse or shoes 

Even on a wet, muddy day 

I often wonder about the girl on the swing 

For she’s there almost every day 

Dressed in the same clothes, sitting on the same perch 

Although no-one else seems to take any notice 

I don’t see her mother or father around 

Or any siblings for that matter 

She’s just always there, alone 

As if drifting in her own personal space 

I’ve never talked to the girl on the swing 

So maybe I should try 

But I’m afraid that if I do 

I won’t see her there at all 

THE END