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The Classroom Backyard

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The break-time bell beats loud and free,

My classmates race across the field.

No garden this, but built with glee,

With balls and pipes and discs revealed.

A wooden frame—NVIDIA Park,

Where ping-pong arcs across the air.

Through brightest noon or evenings dark,

It sparks us fresh without a care.

But once a flying disc ran wild,

And struck the clock—oh what a fright!

It tumbled down, our faces styled

In shock beneath its sudden bite.

We tried to fix what had been done,

But truth is hard to sweep away.

Let foolish acts not have their run—

Who make a mess must learn, someday.