At the playground ’round my way,
the children run free, encumbered
only by the requirements of “Tag,”
a game as old as they are young.
There will be time later on
to run in step and follow rules,
to start where told and finish at the tape.
But now they run free, helter-skelter,
joy on their faces as they scream,”Not it!”
I watch from the sidelines,
leaning on my cane, and wonder
about the last time I could run.
I tap my cane, perhaps playing “Taps”
for my own athletic life.
Here is the exuberance of childhood,
cries filling the air of youngsters who
will soon fall into societal lanes,
passing the baton from one
regimented child to another.
THE POETRY OF THE GAME