Thoughts on my poem, please?

Roopa S · Yahoo User

“The Swing Set”I see myself sitting on the swing in the backyard,letting my maroon-painted toes slightly graze the ground,my crimped black hair, cascading onto my shoulders.It was a summer night.I remember the rusty swing set.I had received it as a gift at my fifth grade birthday party;my mom had servedlittle chocolate cookies topped with pink sprinkles.The forlorn brown bench.I had spent hourslying supineunder the sun,reading Jane Austen’s classic works.The burgeoning apple tree.My father and I had spentan entire day planting it.I was nine and vivacious; he was old and scruffy.We dug and watered and sweated,and then we drank pink lemonade.My past influences me, creates me.I have regretted, learned, and loved.My memories have chiseled a pathwaythat somehow leads straightto my present.I tell myselfoverand over again.It’s just a picture,just a picture.But somehow, I am sitting on a swing at the park…holding Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice,a glass of pink lemonade,and little chocolate cookies topped with pink sprinkles…one summer night.