The sun beats down and warms our half naked bodies.
The cool breeze of the trade winds plays on the lagoon.
Brightly coloured fish ripple clear waters at our feet.

An old coconut tree leans over, leafy palms reaching out to sea.
And from her bough hangs the world's most perfect swing.
A little wooden seat, dangling on twenty metres of twine.

And on the seat, four children.
Standing, sitting, hanging, holding,
smiling.
Soaring skywards,
skimming backwards.
Toes splash a salty spray.
A tangle of sandy bodies tumble in,
laughing.