Heights on the playground

There was a climbing wall

on the playground

and I used to sit astride it,

looking both backward and ahead,

like a sentry in a castle tower.

I imagined I could see

all the known possibilities

of what was behind me

as anything ahead seemed foreign

and a little exciting.

My legs sometimes would swing

as if there was a song playing

-often there was, at least in my head.

I would hold on tight

to the beam that held the walls together

and sit until called back to class.

There was no battle to win

or answer to figure out

on that wall, just a happy way to pass time,

legs swinging, the wind pushing me to sing

and keep time with my daydreams

of whatever lay ahead.