The last day of school. The first day of freedom.
At last there is no need for shoes.
Barefooted baseball, diving off rocks,
Stepping on bees, ignoring the clocks.
Three glorious months without rules.
In the life of a mayfly it’s over,
Stop searching for four leafed clover.
Duty kicks in. No time to create.
Meet obligations. Suffer the fate
of Boxer after the takeover.
Where went that sprite? Disappeared in the night
that came when adulthood began?
No, he didn’t die completely.
Merely slumbered so sweetly
until a crunched leaf woke him again.
Now we cycle together along the canal.
We chat with the ducks, days on end.
We shuffle through leaves, swim where forbidden,
eat cakes, chuck off shoes, forget about rules.
That imp’s now my very best friend.