A towheaded tot, hands thrust in his pockets,
a nose full of snot, bright eyes in their sockets.
An elbow he thrusts, his friend giggles keenly
a word he entrusts, and smiles serenely.
Bold gestures embrace the lass with fine lashes,
fingers aloft trace her hem and her sashes.
So fondly they dance, these children at play,
how bravely they prance, adoring the day.
No wicked imposture as yet can delude,
no moment has lost her, no evil intrude.
Her peach colored cheeks do glow in the sun,
she in innocence seeks but a moment of fun.
Her bright cherry lips smirk at their folly
her plaid bedecked hips twist ever so jolly.
So gaily entranced, she beckons her friend,
who swift as a lance does the playground ascend.
Together they stand, quite spryly imploring,
at once hand-in-hand, their gazes exploring.
But forward are they, these boys in earnest
to conquer the day, with more than a jest.
For words are wasted on this field of war
where victory is tasted through oh so much more.
Where gibberish and liquorish and lace abound
where sneakers and Snickers and gumballs are found.
Where monkey bars, Hot Wheels cars reputations make
and Mountain Dew and Pepsi too one’s thirst can slake.
So silent and grave, their thoughts a bit gory
and longing to pave their futures with glory,
the boys give chase, pursuing their foes
with zeal-tainted face and light on their toes.
Down the hill and up, their hearts beating faster,
one girl gives up, facing imminent disaster.
Or so it had seemed, till one boy stumbled
and thus was deemed to have been truly humbled.
Still the hound howls ahead, as the hart seems to falter,
by fear she is led, and soon he must halt her.
At last, there’s no place left to run or to hide,
the dear soul’s bereft, with no hope to abide.
She falls to her knees, her hands in the air,
yet he ignores her pleas, grasps at her hair.
She has to submit, as his voice fills with glee,
shouts out, “Tag! You’re it! Now you chase me!”
George Ellington 