Sisters on a Swing
What we have been now we are not:
Ants on a log, or sisters on a swing,
Two busy strangers in a parking lot.
The fallen log we sat upon will rot.
The sunflower will die and with it bring
What we have been. Now we are not
Mere children playing in the garden plot —
Uprooted, grown apart, and flowering,
Too. Busy strangers in a parking lot
Walk past the blooming yard like we forgot
Our home, our summer sun, our fairy ring —
What we have been. Now we are not.
Perhaps we both, by crueler masters bought
See not our state beneath the ogre king —
Too busy. Strangers in a parking lot,
We’ll meet again, one day, in black cloth, hot;
Walk to the grave in silence, stand and sing.
What we have been now we are not:
Two busy strangers in a parking lot.
Sarah Reardon is a writer from Maryland who recently published her first chapbook, Home Songs, with Wipf and Stock.
Pulsebeat Poetry Journal 