I sit under a tree,
Feeling its breeze,
The breeze that take me to my old memories,
The breeze that takes me to my gold memories,
Those memories will always stay in a beautiful spot,
The memory of me first going to school,
The memory of me being savage and cool.
The memory of me punching a boy,
The memory of me playing with a toy.
Those memories are my golden things,
They’ll never fade away,
In my mind they’ll always ring.
Thank you for reading!
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