The sun peaks.
Crowds wander into the open.
Oval-shaped field;
Three strikes upon the happy clock.
Cheerful faces.
They’ve had enough of school life.
All rejoice.
“The beach” gives the wanted escape.
Balls, frisbees.
Games litter space between buildings.
Cheers erupt.
Like “young volcanoes” they won’t stop.
Buckeyes watch.
“Buckeyes” play the same, no question.
Trees growing.
Summer comes but ”spring” never leaves.
The sun sets.
Darkness dawns upon the students’ “beach.”
Crowds thin out.
None will forget about tomorrow.
~Chris
~Chris
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