So here I am begging you to see me.
Like a child on a swing pumping
my legs faster and faster,
going higher and higher until
the whole thing begins to topple
back and forth out of the ground.
Then you notice me for every
reason but one that matters.
Why can’t you see the beauty
in the lines of my body
as I glide back and forth?
The subtle way my hair glistens
under the sun? The look of joy
and contentment on my face
while I perform for you?
Had you not heard the thumping
of the swing set against the hard ground,
you wouldn’t have seen me yet again.