Talia

15

The school bell rings three times,
It’s the first day of June,
The children run recklessly from the overflowing halls,
Eager to dance under the the illuminated sky,
After months spent staring at an endless string of notes and rules,
Their minds are innocent, unaware of the passing of the season,
Like wide-eyed infants, they crawl into their new haven,
Eager to gobble up every last sunbeam and flower that they can find.

The ocean pounds into the shore,
Never growing tired or weary,
Much like the children who play in the indigo water,
It’s the middle of July,
The children have long forgotten their lessons,
About the sharks and monsters that infest the waters,
They only notice that the beach has a pungent scent of nostalgia,
Though it’s aged and changed since they last met.

The horizon gobbles up the sun,
It stretches its arms to kiss the sky once more,
As the children are tucked into bed for the hundredth time,
They no longer fit into last year’s school clothes,
Much like their minds that have become deepened and matured,
Through the gentle caress of the passing of time,
It’s the last day of August,
The school bell rings three times.