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Happy in our summer sleeves and loudmouthed hopes
The river bullies, menacingly. Ready to pounce, submerging those frail, failing or sensitive. Here, once, we walked, happy in our summer sleeves and loudmouthed hopes. We were caught off guard as time’s tributaries drained away our dreams, imperceptibly. We could not stem the flow. Attrition is invisible or overlooked. Perhaps we simply lost what it was to be young. or just forgot, too naive, or cross. Looking, now, at youth’s beautiful irreverence we are flooded with a tidal rage. From low quagmire to high surface-sucking current.
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