Monkey Bars

It is something felt in our bones and our toes and our hair

In the ends, the joints, the corners, the tips, the straights, the bends

It is something we cannot leave behind us to rot

For it is precious to our survival, revival

It is sleep, and dreams, and air, and water, and running far

There is no need for phones, internet, planes and damned cars

You only need to go out and play in the monkey bars

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