The Playground

My children in the playground is the best time of my day,

Oh! If I could teach them Life while they were engrossed in play.

I watch them on the see-saw, fluctuate up then down,

And wildly spin fearlessly on the thrilling merry go round.

 

They hastily climb the ladder then slide back to the sand,

Sometimes suffering abrasions when awkwardly they land.

The labyrinth jungle gym makes the climb confusing,

To reach the top of risk the fall constantly a musing.

 

Alone on the park bench sometimes; seeking solitude,

A lack of will crafted by an inexplicable change in mood.

Oscillating on the swing, a pleasant wind does blow,

A push causing elevation, a drag making it slow. 

 

When their mirthful spirits surge forth in sportive spree,

I’d tell them ‘Life’s’ a playground; Bethlehem to Calvary.