Wooden Swings

I want to burn my memories,
With self pity that glows a faint red,
To be able to go on wooden swings,
and fly off in between forever and eternity,
I would fade away into a distant reality,
Where I can reminisce of genuine laughter,
Where complication was the least of our problems,
and friends really were forever,
With cartwheels in fields of daisies,
We would lie on the grass,
and stare into the pretty nothings of our world,
To be able to go on wooden swings.