When I think of the playground at my elementary school, I think of all of the happy times I had there as a child.

Sure, I had no one to play with, but back then I still smiled.

The pain of having nobody to rely on was ignored,

But I was happiest helping others when opening the door.

I would sit on the old swings, creaking and always twisted.

When someone would ask to go on the swing, that’s when you knew you existed.

Lost in a fantasy when spinning on the donut toy.

That is where you feel the best joy.

Sand is always stuck in your shoes.

Air tasting of dirt.

Accidents would always happen,

But in the end, they still hurt.

Kids laughed as they went down the long, purple slide.

Unaware of the shock! At the end of the ride.

When we would play tag, everyone would run around.

On the bridge, on the ground, trying not to get found.

In the playshed, not much would go on.

Just echo off of the walls when children would break into song.

The future athletes kick around a ball and pretend they’re playing soccer.

The girls watch in awe as if they are not walkers.

As I walk around the field,

I see the tall fence, supposedly acting like a shield.

The neighborhood around has dogs that make too much noise.

“Can’t we just hush ‘em up?” says the group of boys.

“Pass the ball!” “Can I join?” That is what I hear.

And as time goes on, the end is near.

As we reach the end of our game Red Rover.

We hear the whistle, and that’s the cue the recess is over.