Summer time is finally here
School is out and fishing time near.
Barefooted boys and fishing poles,
Down to the creek, to the ole swimming hole.
Running through the woods, along the river bank,
That old boat they used went and sank.
A can of worms, a hook and line,
Looking for a fishing pole, if they can find
Two good friends who share their fun,
They run and jump and chase the sun.
Running here, and running there.
Not any worries, not a care
But too soon, it must all end
For these two that were good friends.
Summer comes and summer moves on.
A few summers in your life, then you're grown.
But there are days we can recall When we were friends, we had it all.
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Comments about this poem (Summer by Doug Beggs )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
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