The Swing Set

I'm not perfect, and I never have been; that's one thing I won't deny. My arms always creak, my skin is so dry it peels, and with each passing day a little bit of my age unveils itself for reasons I cannot fathom. Yet despite all my flaws, she has always been by my side. In fact, the gaze of my precious girl was the first I had ever met. It was during a time when the green at my feet and the sea looming above were the most fertile, their mystical soils inviting me to sew within them the seeds of imagination, where I was assured they would sprout, blossom, and ripen into the most succulent fruit of all. I suppose the world was no different through her lens, now that I reflect on the past. We were both newly born into what the adults dubbed reality, though herself just a few years before me, and the illusory adventures she would compose also became my own. She would be a captain, and I her pirate ship, or I would be a castle and she my princess locked within. On occasions, my precious girl would invite another to partake in our games, but I always preferred the ones where it was only my heart singing along with hers. They assured me that I was more than just an object for her amusement; I was something important, something irreplaceable. Surely I had value to her… did I not?

As the day would dim and the sun prepared for rest, I remember that she would come and ask to be cradled in my grasp, so that we may sway to the metronome of a seemingly endless summer. She'd laugh and bear her brilliant grin as we danced, I vying not to be lulled by her melodious joviality, as each moment spent with her was a moment in an angel's presence. These visits comforted me when I dreaded the coming night, where I knew the approaching darkness would be my only company while she slumbered peacefully in the realm beyond. I raised no qualms though, for although her ears were deaf to my words, she must have sensed at least a fraction of my plight.

That's the only reason I can conceive as to why she would trust me with the ghost of her warmth: To provide me with a defense against the moon's chilling rays. I clung to that spirit for dear life some nights, when the cold was especially unrelenting and the wind equally fierce. Surely someone as revered as my precious girl wouldn't bequeath a part of her soul to just anyone; at least, that's what I once believed.

The two of us aged together, I lagging but a small distance behind due to my reluctance to forfeit the privileges of unrestrained youth with the same ease as she had. In time I would fall equal beside her, but just when I thought we were finally balanced, she would always stride one pace ahead of me. The frequency of our games diminished each day as well. Eventually they ceased all together, leaving only her twilight visits for us to enjoy each other's company. These visits became the highlight of all my days, as they had become the only time her face met mine. Otherwise she seemed content roaming about the other world, the one with geometric apertures through which I could peer yet perceive no sound, allowing me only glimpses of what her activities were in the place I could not follow. Some days I wondered if she would ever resurface. I would even debate with myself whether she had forgotten my existence or simply neglected it, but come dusk and I was assured that I was still present in her mind.

In this present time, however, I can only hope that I have not left her conscious.

Years passed in that limbo between believing our love was solid and thinking she hadn't a care for me any longer. After a time, there came a day where she didn't visit me at all. She knew I was snared in my place for eternity; certainly she couldn't have expected me to visit her that evening. Perhaps it was that knowledge that made my pain smart even more though, for long have I wanted to join her in the other world she seemed to treasure more now than anything. The night she forsook me was the most terrifying, most merciless night I had ever encountered. Should eyes have blessed my form, they would have wept seething tears until even they chose to abandon me. My hopes—or perhaps desperation—was set on the next day for her arrival, but alas, my precious girl remained absent. The cycle continued where I braced against the baleful night and prayed for her return, only to face dejection and begin the process once more. This day was no exception, or at least it wouldn't have been, but on occasions, dreams become reality.

She waltzed over to me and wrapped herself in my creaking arms as though nothing had changed during our time apart. Her warmth flooded my harrowed bones just as they once did, rejuvenating them with that sensation I had long missed, but never forgotten. My precious girl, why this sudden change of heart? I yearned to ask her. The girl's deafness to my words hadn't changed though, leaving her to glide gently back and forth in my embrace without disengaging from the ground. No matter, I was euphoric just to have her again; my how she's grown! I suppose I've grown as well, but not nearly as kindly as her. Her blonde tresses cascaded down her back in gentle ringlets that bounced with every movement; her once enormous blue eyes had claimed a more fitting size, but the potency of their allure hadn't ebbed in the slightest. What had changed most though, I noted, was her body. Where once her flesh fell as any other child, a pair of widened hips had sculpted a form that I had only seen before on her mother, but my precious girl bore her curves more lucidly. Though these curves did not belong to the girl I once knew, they were a pleasant and welcomed alteration. I wanted to bask in her heavenly radiance forever, but as with all things, forever can never last.

Another, a boy, took a place beside my precious girl. She smiled as he whispered all the words I've been telling her since I first took her into my arms.

"You're beautiful," he told her, something I thought she had known from me all along.

"I love you," he whispered, the words identical to what I've told her every day when she'd visit me at twilight.

His falsities ignited a fire in my soul. She was my precious girl, my princess, yet she failed to see that. She only saw this bandit who plotted to steal her away for but a few moments that he promised would be eternity. It was my duty to protect her, but she refused my guard. I wanted to scream and shout, to unveil the truth that this boy could never hope to rival my affections for her, but my voice was of naught once more. Had I not existed at all? Perhaps I didn't, not in this world, but regardless of what degree my tangibility pertained to, there was no denying how torn my heart became as I watched his lips press against hers.

A kiss, the ultimate sign of affection: Captured by the lips of this boy. I watched aghast in utter silence for what seemed until the end of worlds, but when their engagement concluded, my precious girl's cheeks simmered rose and the corners of her mouth pulled into the most sincere smile. Reconciliation was due. Indeed, she was my princess, but I no longer her prince. She had found her prince, and I was left to stand in the shadows of the past. But I could see that she was happy, and that's all that mattered.