skipping rope

Skipping rope, a simple childhood toy,

With memories of laughter, and joys of boy,

Jumping and twirling, with feet so light,

In a rhythm, that feels just right.

A rope with a handle, that swings so high,

A dance with the wind, as it passes by,

A game of endurance, where one can soar,

A test of rhythm, that's hard to ignore.

It's a challenge, that can be fun and tough,

With every skip, comes a burst of puff,

But the more you practice, the better you'll be,

And the joy of skipping, will always set you free.

So next time, you find a skipping rope,

Take a moment, to give it a go,

And feel the rhythm, that's been passed down,

Through generations, of children and clowns.