Memories | Mao Chinen

One Sunday morning

we were in the cozy little park

under some big twists

and turns in the trees

we played on the swing

rocking back and

forth like a pendulum

repeated endlessly

the yellow sun shined

on us when we looked

to our right

we could see

the blue-green ocean

and the waves coming

and going out

across the hot white sand

when we felt the fregrance

of the salt breeze

we don’t think anything