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When Play is Gold

Stepping stones line the old woods creek, 
A place where tadpoles streak. 
Soft breeze kiss the trees peace walks
With gentle ease.

Open skies shine above with sweet whispers
Of summer's love. Birds sing their nesting song
And fill the air with life so strong.

The stepping stones I follow long and cool my feet
In ripples strong. Swaying to the bird's soft song.
Back to the cabin with pant legs rolled and face the
The day when play is gold.

Young and carefree with time to spare growing strong
In forest air.  
A life I would not trade, my life is made in the shade, 
Woodland life is on parade....


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When Play is Gold