Budding time for liveliness
And growth to all things new,
She shot up like a creeping vine
Desiring to do.
Her bright face flushed by summer's sun,
She read stained sheets of paper.
Making out the meaningful
Wherever she was able.
Still the tired sun sank down
An ode to autumn skies.
Little girls must go to sleep,
As will to nature lies.
Empyreal in blanket snow
The moon reflects on time,
On wasted beauty, summer sun,
And youth that passed her by.
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