The snowflakes melted into our fingers,
and the cold tingled electric on our skin-

and the wide wonder of all the white lingered,
long after we got home and black night set in.

We made up stories and gulped down Fresca, lying lazy beneath the leaves,
we told of fire and its dragons, as the summer sat sticky on our sleeves.

We held wonders inside our eyes,
we held prophecies on our tongue.

We were funny and brave and wise,
we were young; we were young; we were young.

We drink from flimsy foam cups, the coffee shop sits snug as we tirelessly discuss-
We argue and ponder and wonder about most everything, till night falls down around us.

And everything holds possibility and dilemmas; we feel it pulsing within our heartbeats,
And we love the night for its blanketed stillness and the vast, cozy sprawl of our streets.

We become intimately acquainted with the seasons, as we learn the secret setup of the year-
We wish time to cleverly claim them, though we’re frightened by how carelessly they disappear.

We sway on the brink of greatness, harbor all the songs yet unsung,
We are young; and we are fierce and brilliant because we are young.

Winter watches as we rush down the sidewalk steeped in snow, our footsteps imprinting a pathway to our cars.
In summer we attack the coast towns, where we tan on beaches and get cold drinks at night from crowded bars.

The autumn displays her colors, but our eyes are long dimmed by our phone screens and our bills-
We learn to wake with coffee, eat by ourselves, communicate by texting, and go to sleep with pills.

Sometimes, in the belly of the night, we get a bit lonesome,
But we’re adults now – have responsibilities heavy on our lungs.

We tire with the knowing that seasons go and seasons come,
But we’re still young now; we’re still young; we’re still so young.

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