I hear your name,
The softness of it.
In dark hours
When I and my restless wandering
Are breached by still waters.
I see your face
And follow it.
Sense your limbs
Swing like pendulums
Through an autumn night’s fog.
I watch your eyes
Circumscribe memories
Of monsters and taboo,
As we swing like children
While all the children sleep.
![Swing](https://i0.wp.com/www.bradseverance.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/swing.jpg?resize=700%2C529)