Playground. Poem by Tony Mushrow

A place for the kiddies,
It had swings and a slide.
It had a roundabout too,
And places to hide.
It was painted, and shiny,
It was nice, it was new.
But sadly someone else,
had plans for it too.

The younger ones loved it,
With squeals of delight.
They ran around laughing,
What a wonderful sight.
But someone close by,
With evil intent,
Thought I need to do bad,
And had anger to vent.

So this little thug and his friends,
These poor sad no marks.
Thought it would be fun,
to burn down our park.
And like wild Indians,
Chanting,
their voices got higher.
Like Satan’s imp children,
they danced round the fire.

They danced round and round,
and thought what a lark.
As the fire took hold,
of our poor little park.
They danced round and round,
Not a care to be found,
of when the little ones see,
Their park burnt to the ground.