I haven't figured this out yet . . .
At the tops and
Bottoms of slides, my
Children like to hang out and
Do nothing. Just sit. Waiting,
Ever so patiently
For time to pass by.
Generating tension with each second,
Half aware of their father, standing eagerly,
Impatiently, even, for something to
Jolt them into action. To
Kill the anticipation built by
Loitering on the slides.
My eyes might actually turn
Numb while staring at the
Only children on the
Planet, who would rather
Quietly linger above and below, than
So that others might
Take advantage of the
Unlimited fun that slides have to offer.
Vehemently ignoring my suggestions to move,
Willingly oblivious; as if the slide were some kind of
Youth, I guess, affords one the luxury to
Zone out in unexpected places.