Eons ago, your loving hands pushed my swing, up and down, back and forth,
pushing harder and harder, you encouraged me to fly.
Explore, expand your horizon,go forward, have faith,I will be waiting, you said.
Today I am ready to push, but you are gone, those loving hands will push no more.
Three Lines Tale – Week Thirty Seven
we can and we will !
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Fleeting Muse 
Bittersweet
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Very moving
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Who pushed your swing ?
So sad your poem is.
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All your comments were going to the spam folder. I am not sure why.
Thanks for reading and visiting.
Swing is a metaphor for childhood and those loving hands are the hands of parents who guided and pushed.
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Now that you explained, it sounds more beautiful.
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Thank you. I am flattered.
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Hello, I’m Cattie. Yesterday I read your post and posted a Comment. But the comment in not featuring here. Please check your spam box and see if my comment is there.
Cattie
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As I replied earlier, it went to spam folder. WordPress sometimes works strange.
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I’m Coming again.
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This is bittersweet.
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Yes, it is.
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This is so beautifully written! I have no idea why I haven’t seen any of your posts in my email since Sept. 24th. Please forgive me for not following or commenting recently. I’m noticing this with other blogs I follow and not sure how to correct it.
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