Slide

On the playground’s gentle rise,
A metal tongue of bright steel,
Where laughter hums beneath the skies,
And children’s feet begin to feel

The thrill of motion, swift and free,
A whisper of the wind’s own glide,
Each grin a flash of pure glee,
As they descend the sliding tide.

From top to base the world tilts slow,
A curve of courage, smooth and clean,
A fleeting flight where young hearts go,
And time seems to lean in, serene.

So let the slide be more than play—
A brief escape, a bright arc drawn,
Where worries slip and fade away,
And joy is found in every dawn.