We use to jump through puddles
In the springtime
In the rain.
We laughed and then got
yelled at
When our mothers saw
Our soaking shoes.
We spent our teenaged summers
Jumping gullies
Falling short.
We laughed and we got yell at
For our dirty
Dungarees
Our chasm grew much wider
When the leaves
Began to fall.
We laughed a little less and
yet
The yelling
Had been stilled.
Now wintertime approaches
And our gully
Is a gulch.
And I don’t have the energy
To jump
To laugh
To yell
To cry.
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