It feels like home. It feels like youth.
When sun is high and breeze is light.
When times were simpler and life was truth.
When days were warm and so was night.
We scattered, searching for cooler ground
Afraid of sticking and melting away.
But in those months such a place isn't found
So, taking the risk, we played anyway.
Our feet were quick on the blacktop.
We ran and skipped but never sat.
Armed with hoses and soda pop,
We threw the balls and swung the bat.
Those months when solid ground was softened
Hold mem'ries I think back on often.
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