Barefoot Summers

We've lost a few things special
as we've become more refined
Like a boy going barefoot
in the good old summertime

I sometimes think about my boyhood
and the last haft of May
When I'd start going barefoot
on the first really hot day

I can remember the freedom
that I then once knew
When for the summer I discarded
my uncomfortable shoes

My feet were so tender
I'd often prance around
But they felt terrific
on the cool and moist ground

At least once each summer
I'd step on some glass
And be out of commission
but that quickly passed

By early or late August
only leather shoes could match
My toughen soles that could brave
any briar berry patch

I was happy without a nickel
and the playground was my land
Wading water puddles was fun
and so was playing in the sand

My contentment ended
when the school bells rang out the news
It was back to the books;
and on my feet were some new shoes