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Ellen Bailey Poems
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Barefoot Summers

by Gene Sanders

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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

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