The early morning glow of the dawn
bathed the young youth in light
looking beyond the pale glow
of a ticking clock with sight.
No more summer fun for the fawn.
We make are march towards winter's
snow.
Learning our times table and ABCs
and what lives below the rolling seas.
We make our march towards the dark
towards the schoolhouse on the hill.
Our teacher look grim and stark,
as the rain beats down the window sill
but like all things that come and go
I see my life ahead of me.
Onward I march beyond the snow,
Towards summer break I march with
glee.
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