I miss the little things.

My schoolyard friends,

The summer's end,

My childish dreams.

 

And fear this too

Of tomorrow's day.

When I will say,

Today was full.

 

If Hope lies ahead

And happiness back,

It can only track

That now is dead.

 

The present is skiewed,

By what was then,

The future's when,

And how they're viewed.

 

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