You know all, little children, of six, seven, eighth,
that the school starts in autumn, and not in the fall.
And when school starts, one carries a big sun burned freight,
and a kind of a calling is it is to show all.
Perhaps summer was lousy, with fear and disgust.
Perhaps nothing was right, in the world, there to see.
Though, this truth you can certainly treasure and trust,
that what you fathomed is to be shared and set free!
Find the text on my home page ꜛhere.