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Memories of Eleventh Summer
School grinds on. It seems like hell.
Last day, then summer, and we're free.
An angel sings, rings the school bell.
We race down the street with glee -
so, begins three months of fun.
Let's play baseball. Let's climb a tree.
Riding bicycles in the sun,
Will this season end? No - never -
dreaming of that special one.
Oh, to be there now. However,
summers never last forever.
Copyright ©
David Crandall
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