The Swing

I am thinking of using this for a poetry comp, so please give me your honest opinion :)

Sitting on the swing, deep in thought,
My toes brushing against the grass.
Moving backward, moving forward,
My mind has wandered too far
It feels like I've been on the swing forever,
Though I've been here for maybe half a day.
It's a place where I can sit and think,
When my mood is overly grey.
I am sitting on the rusty old swing,
A cool breeze blowing through my hair.
It reminds me that the world can be nice and calm,
Even though it's sometimes unfair.
Sitting on that swing, I wonder:
How long has it been here?
A single swing in a tiny park,
And an old tree is very near.
This little swing, aged and creaky,
Is in a suitable spot.
And I love to sit on this much loved swing,
Whether I'm happy or not.