In Season
Youthful hair blows free,
Flows wild as the sea,
Soft as toes against the sand.
The days grow hazy;
The sun grows lazy;
Too soon, skin is fully tanned.
Too soon, school bells ring;
Grown up kids they bring;
Buttoned neatly are their clothes.
Crunchy leaves will fall,
Ripened harvests call,
Seasons come and then they close.
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