Heart Swings

Ah, Winter's air. Crisp against my skin.
And Kaleb is dead.
I smile to myself.
It's that time of year again
where I push ever onward.
Kaleb is dead.
I watch shadow after shadow pass by.
How many hours has it been?
I kick my feet out.
The branch creaks trying to hold
It's new weight.
I can relate to the branch.
I swing back, pull my feet in, swing forward.
He's really dead.
The branch creaks once more;
From the big oak on a hill.
I can relate.
Stress weighs me down
As though I have my own little person
Swinging from my heart strings.
I am a branch,
Swaying in the
Crisp
Winter's
Wind.
And Kaleb is dead.