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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=574548" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Swinging In Her Tomorrow</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=574548" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">It seems to be keeping things together: <br>The fox in the eyes of the girl who isn't even here: <br>In the playground before the sea: <br>The only thing that is hiding all of it from her is<br>The manmade dune that seems to<br>Say, "I will protect you." Well then the sun<br>Smiled—and the lights came out<br>That had previously been selling off of the <br>Ferris Wheels: <br>This was the most beautiful joy in the world<br>And it wasn't even his—<br>And as she swam in the shallow abysses—feeling<br>All of a brevity that wasn't even joy—<br>I remembered the echoes of another's knuckles<br>Rasping upon the thresh holds—<br>And whatever joy that may have once been—<br>Left as if it was a clouded airplane from<br>Her eyes—and set off for those parts<br>That were barren and without swing-sets: <br>And whatever joy there remained, swinging in her tomorrow—<br>Happened to listen without her, <br>And kept talking to itself—as if she was already home.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Bret+R.+Crabrooke">Bret R. Crabrooke</a></strong></div>

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