We've got a playground in our school,

rectangular and boring.

It leaves us every break time,

underwhelmed and snoring.

Yet here within this prison yard

there's a plot with some potential

but it lacks degrees of flatness

a trait that's so essential.

If only we could reach the top,

upon a riskless pathway.

To sit upon a picnic bench,

feeling happy all the day.

An orchard, now that would be nice,

besides a water feature,

anticipating Autumn thoughts

of apples for the teacher.

A windmill for our Eco School,

to power a little fountain.

Bring interest to the uninspired

upon our lofty mountain.

Please help us manifest our dreams.

Please help our aspirations.

Please bring joy and happiness

to this deathly dull location.

But just in case our quest doth fail,

plan B progresses daily.

A devious and cunning scheme

engineered precisely.

Our tunnel's now twelve metres long,

shored up with chairs and tables

and soon we'll all escape this place

that intellect disables.