Sluggish eyes adjust to the benevolent glare of the overhead sun before taking off through the doorway
Whirling, whizzing kids fly past,
fresh air filling their parched lungs.
Escaping cold concrete bowls of forced creativity,
Light enters each passing soul.
Dreams run rampant on warm concrete.
Chalk dinosaurs jump to life
Stars gleam and swirl on the asphalt canvas.
Sneakers landing inside numbered chalk boxes after a stone was thrown.
Battling for the swing set.
Rusted metal chains clanking,
The weight of delight bending old steel frames
Children fly higher and higher, free as a bird
Jumping, soaring, landing in a wooden reservoir.
In a blur a group passes,
One chasing many, but never falling behind.
A hand outreached,
Stretching for another, but never successful; the chaser gives up.
The gleeful screech of rubber on plastic as two children tumble down a slide.
Giggling, hair standing on end in an electric current.
They rush to poke each other, but fear subsides the urge;
who would want to be zapped anyway?
More slide down into the heap below; Joyful tears are shed.
A final whistle.
The children grow silent.
Clouds roll over and imaginations flit away into the shadows.
Chalk drawings on concrete fade into the black abyss of pavement, ceasing their lively dances.
The eerie creak of rusted metal.
The quiet shuffle of sneakers on pavement,
All walking back into their assigned roles.
The children walk back inside in pin straight lines.
Dullness returns to their eyes as they adjust quickly to the black void of the building.
Respect is everything. Individuality is concealed in a tin lunch box.