Watching

• Thomas Oates, Grade 3
• Poetry
• 2008

As I settle into the wooden bench at the side of the skate park,
I watch the skaters skate well.
I watch the wheels of their skateboards turning quickly,
Small, yellow, bright sparks fly into the cool air.
The skateboarders land on the high jumps,
Making a big sound.
I taste the wind going across my face.
I can touch metal on the jumps.
I can smell the sparks.