Quietly watching miniature people
As I wait in the line to pick up mine
Crossing guards standing watch like a steeple
As tiny voices tell tales of their time.

Hands gently engulfed in protective mitts
And smiles of those relieved at weeks end
I muse to myself as I idly sit,
What story awaits me as I turn the bend?

A grand hero’s welcome surely awaits!
As I contemplate my day, so mundane
Wondering when I succumbed to life’s weight
An impostor! Lost in this grown-up’s game.

A deep breath releases my burdened mind
For stories about to regale our ride.