Student Publishing Program ::

Rebecca Reibstein

Old Rope Swing

As a child, a fun day consists of hours on an old tire swing.
Spinning, spinning, out of control, with a fraying rope keeping you from flying into orbit.
Before you know it, you’re still on that swing,
But there’s nothing tethering you to the ground.
Spinning, spinning, whirling down the train,
First kiss, first love, first heartbreak.
Spinning spinning, faster still.
First essays, big tests, grades that matter.
Spinning, spinning, out of this world.
Friends that leave you when you need them most,
Ones that emerge like a burning torch in your darkest hour.
The faster we go, the more frantic we become.
Colors and shapes blurring together in one ugly mess.
Things that comforted you at night can no longer be found.
We grab and claw at the open air
Desperately trying to find something,
Anything,
That will plant our feet on the ground

[TABLE OF CONTENTS, LHS CLASS OF 2012 EDITION]