Climbing to the top,
Of a rusty jungle gym,
Sure of what’s to come,
But not ready to give in.
Finally I reach the top,
And look around the playground
I see my two best buddies,
And on their faces are definitely frowns.
The two of them stand,
At the end of each slide,
I must make the decision,
By choosing the one to ride.
Suddenly the winds begin to blow,
It rocks me back and forth,
As if to usher me to go.
But my feet are firm,
They are not moving so soon,
My feet will stay planted,
Even if the wind was a typhoon.
“How I must choose one”,
I mutter to a passing frog,
“When they both fight like little cats and dogs.”
I shutter in the winter wind,
I turn away from the blowing sand,
I begin to stand.
But unlike what my two friends were planning,
I sit down on top of the slides,
Because I will not choose either one to ride