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At Summer's End.

Gone are the days of the Fireflies,
of soft bright eyes,
Of little white lies.

Vanished are nights of dances on the dock,
Of bicycle locks
And five-hour long talks.

Goodbye to the way that the wind whipped my hair
And carried my prayers
Up rickety stairs.

Farewell to the sounds of sweet birds in the sky
To the tears that they cry
And the routes that they fly.

So long to those sighs of the starlight above
To the peace of the dove
And the boy that I love.

I’m sad to see you go.
I’m sad to see you go.



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