We spent our summers
In the roaring crowd of birds and trees,
Swimming in the lake, picking sticky grapes
For homemade wine and making bouquets
Of wildflowers. We often walked along the meadows
To catch butterflies, only to release them
And to observe the solemn river
Carrying in its slow, steady stream
Dirt, branches and litter,
Unable to free itself of the heavy load
And enjoy a youthful flow once more.
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