skate hordes

Park’s been packed for days, all the snow has melted,
Skies clear and sunny, frigid temps can’t keep us away,
Scores of street-stylers and bowl-riders came out to play.
Fruit-booters and BMX-icans paid a visit as well,
And a bunch of little tykes with plastic and walmart boards,
Cluttering the park, but welcomed into the skate hordes.
We’ll learn them, teach them what to do,
Got to raise them right, set a good example,
Don’t want them to become booters or BMXers too,
Down in the bowl, everyone is welcome,
We all take turns, queued in the shallow,
Even the kid riding the board on his bum,
Wearing a plastic hardhat looking out of place,
But he’s so young, doesn’t know, everyone gives him space.
He mimics the rest of us, complaining about his knee,
After skidding off the board, cute little guy,
So short we gotta boost him up over the coping,
Into the waiting arms of mom, so busy doting.
Told her to get him some pads, some cheap ones,
Until he gets older and better, then upgrade,
Keep the stoke alive if you can, don’t let it fade.
I tell my own son not to be too afraid to try,
You are only skating for yourself, no one else,
Life is to be lived, not to be put up on some shelf.
At the park, we watch and we talk, almost as much as we skate,
All the old-schoolers will stand around talking about the old days,
Asking the new-schoolers questions about this or that,
Or the newbies asking them about their old-school decks,
Helping them along as they help us, both sharing respect.
One of my son’s doctors used to drop his son off,
Was always worried about the crowd he kept at the park,
But we look out for each other, getting along for the most part,
Learning from each other, even though some spend all their time,
Skating in the bowls, or doing flippy tricks, no one seems to mind.
It doesn’t matter how rich or poor you are,
Where you’re family’s from or what you do,
When it comes to skating, everything’s cool,
It’s open to old and young, anyone and everyone,
And the lowest denominator is just having fun.