Time, Like A Pendulum.
Henderson, the couple were called… or Anderson. Just married, they moved into number 13.
Within six months, he was out in the back, fixing the newly bought child’s swing to the apple tree. He stood back from it, the hand holding the hammer perched upon his hip, his other shading his eyes as he gazed proudly upon his work.
The baby swing was played upon by autumn leaves and it moved in winter’s winds.
Over time, the sun took the colour from it and the rain washed it down to white.
They left the swing there when they moved away.
Henderson, they were called. Or maybe Anderson.