Listen to the world’s best poetry read out loud.

Hear the children’s four-beat sonnet. 

Watch them race around the yard – 

“Watch out, Davy!” “Davy’s on it.” 

Hit the wall, and hit it hard 

for protection. Touch your neighbour. 

Run like wind towards the trees! 

See the fat boy puff and labour. 

You evade his grasp with ease. 

Sheila Saunders whizzes past me, 

all her freckles thrown like dice. 

“Girls are nice and boys are nasty!” 

Shelia shouts, and skids like ice 

from my clutches down the street, 

and the poem is complete.