Stopping by the field on a golden afternoon
We do not know whose kids these are playing on the field.
We do not know whose kids these are playing on the field.
They are running, running and running.
Hands and feet full of mud, numb without rest.
All we heard was catch, catch, catch and catch
Giggles of music pump through the hearts
Games changed in every minute, fun was at its best.
From the swings to the slide they moved and ran without grace, with pride
Seated on the grass under a huge aged tree,
Our heads were slow to be with them in the eyes so free
Names of the games? O heavens who knows them!
Rules there seemed to be little or none!
No points, no one won, all were in, no one out, none lost,
All for fun
They appeared and re-appeared so fast
Their madness so tired and fresh ran all over the field, and seemed only,
Only to last
When they spoke on the run
No meaning came from the wordless fun
Not a word they sang made sense to us
They understood them though without a fuss
And then again
Even after what all they did! It was time again to run, run, run and run.
Infected, injected with happiness above words, we felt our nerves found our sense
As friends would return we promised ourselves
Left the kids and the tree, in between their games
super!
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