soon come the day of summer again
for me the age of seven to reach
and rush back to my fellow friends
give them one stone, one cookie each
so laughters vent the flavour again
of artlessness removing fears
witches and demons shall in vain
smell our fleshes, drink our tears
soon come the dazing mummer again
fiddling figures and queer shapes
gaping at a sky where dreams remain
seeking in its cloud one's dear face
stones would therein fly high again
change into plane, bird, whatsoever
carrying hopeful wishes sustained
by inner confidence in the future
soon come the daisy murmur again
of flowers wreathen round the brow
garlands spreading a silent grain
this later blooms in lovers' vow
let's share with ants our meal again
near by the river claims our feet
rather than walk along the lane
run down its sparkling chant so sweet
soon come the age of seven again
from deep inside I hear that call
it's not that I can't stand the rain
it's just me stepping into fall
tiniak © 2008 DUKOU ZUMIN &ditions TwalesK
inspiré par une Bulle Dorée
de Anne Le TOUX