An empty swing creaks softly in the cold,
Its chains a song the silent wind can play;
The sandbox sleeps beneath a frost of gold.
An empty swing creaks softly in the cold.
No children’s laughter breaks the pale daylight,
Just breathless clouds that drift and slip away;
An empty swing creaks softly in the cold,
Its chains a song the silent wind can play.
https://crispinakemp.com/2025/12/10/crimson-creative-challenge-064/
Carol, this is a beautifully evocative piece of writing. You have a wonderful ability to create a vivid, poignant atmosphere with such careful, melodic language. The repetition of “An empty swing creaks softly in the cold” works like a perfect, haunting refrain, and the imagery of the “sandbox sleeping beneath a frost of gold” is simply lovely. You capture a sense of peaceful, wintry absence that is both quiet and deeply resonant. Excellent work.
Thank you, my friend. I appreciate your kindness. 😊💗💗
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