Photo courtesy of Llywelyn Nys
The rising sun had yet to meet the sky, and hues of pink changed the clouds to delicious cotton candy. She shut the door quietly, trying not to wake her father, then flipped yesterday’s braids behind her, and tiptoed quickly off the deck.
Wet grass slipped between her bare toes as she ran toward the towering tree.
Once there, her small hands tugged at the ropes, pulling herself to sit on the wood, hand-carved by her papa. She tipped her head, purple nightgown soaring behind her like a cape. Her toes touched the coveted sky.
Often, she dreamt of flying.
Danielle Dayney 
I love the beautiful picture you painted here. I could see every detail perfectly.
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There is such a airy, lyrical quality to this piece, Danielle! It’s beautiful.
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Ah! her papa, the wind beneath her wings!!!! Brilliant!
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Glad you liked it =)
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I love all the details here–texture, color. I’m suddenly wishing I had a swing (and a non-icky-humid sunrise)!
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Thanks, Jennifer!
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Beautiful. Love how you described and love how I am able to actually picture it. Flawless.
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Thank you!
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I really like the leap you took between the third and last paragraphs and the conflict you created underneath the joyous moment. Really nice work, Danielle!
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Thank you, Nate! Glad you liked it.
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I used to swing for HOURS as a kid.
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Me too. I remember it feeling like freedom.
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This reminded me of when I was a kid and brought back that sensation of flying on a swing…oh the freedom… Thanks
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Glad you liked it!
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Beautiful. I felt transported by this.
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Thanks, Melissa! Glad you liked it.
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