I remember sitting on the swing
just outside the house, hearing the birds sing.
I can still feel the sunlight, warm on my face,
my heart was slowly beating in its steady pace.
The swing moved but I was resting as if in a freeze,
only my blonde curls were restless in the breeze.
I stayed there for what seemed hours,
thinking of princesses, animals and flowers.
I could be lost in a world of imaginary creatures
and sometimes I would later tell a story to my teachers.
Swinging back and forth on the swing
made me feel happy and I wanted to sing.
There were days on which I would actually dare
but seeing me sing there was rather rare.
All quiet and peaceful, I was brimming over with mirth:
honestly, the swing outside was my favourite spot on earth.