Old poems have new meaning.

I came to swing
& sing my past a song.
like last night.

But tonight there were 5 kids.
I did not sing.
Not to them.

They didn't need the songs
I had in mind.
They didn't need to hear me say:

"Don't let this summer slip away."

Because they had it.
in a headlock.
Not fighting it...
But playing with it.
Wrestling there,
in the sand.

This summer is theirs,
& it always will be.