I was going to write from the perspective of a Kindergartener, but the words that came out were much older sounding. Doesn't matter. I like it:
I mount the plastic saddle,
And pull upon the reigns.
Pump my feet back and forth
To make him go again.
He whinnies as he gallops
A creaky sort of sound
And rattles on his chains a bit
O’er the passing ground.
My body surges forward
Then back again in stride
My lungs are filled with whistled wind
But my chest is filled with pride.
“Whoa” I call and dismount.
My cowboy ride is done.
With one last pat, I’ve got to go.
The recess bell has rung.
I write about, with, for, and around kids all day. (Well, maybe I do the dishes too. Sometimes.)