Swing Songs

When I was a child I remember playing in the backyard. We had a swingset there and I remember swinging there alone on many occassions. Sometimes I would swing high and fast, trying to fly. Other times I would just kind of dangle and sway forward and backward, digging my toes into the dirt. And at times I would twist the swing to its limit and then let it spin out without control. That was my favorite. I would play outside for hours, but what I remember most was how I would sing as I played. I remember sitting on the swing staring at the building next to our house, it was old and made of stone. I remember looking at those stones and the day ending in the sky behind the golden roughness of the crumbling wall. I watched the clouds and the sun mingle in the west in shades of pink and russet, and under this I would make up little songs. I would sing to nobody and be happy there by myself. I don't remember the words I gave to the songs, but I know that there were words and that those words were my words. I can't remember the sound of the voice I sang in. I know that my voice was true, I know that it was a child's voice. I think that I sang about love, I remember having that feeling about me. Love found and love lost, for sometimes my songs were sad and other times they were joyous.
I sang there during every season. Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter. Each part of the year heard my call. I think the Earth listened to me when I was a child. Frost, maybe where ever you are the Earth saved my songs for you. Maybe you can hear the me that was eight years old singing of a life yet to come. Maybe my songs were a gift from the children I had not met yet. Maybe the colors in the resting sky were you and your sister playing and waiting for your time to come to us. And maybe now you have returned to be the most brilliant beam of light forever playing on the horizon, just waiting to hear the lullaby of a child.
Night, night Frost
Mama loves you.