Patty cake, patty cake.
Small hands making small sounds as they clash and thunder.
Bobbed hair bounces gently,
flaxen in the sun. Summer calls to children, smelling of hay and of relaxation. Sundresses go on,
and sandals go on, and time slows down for a while.
Whitewashed stone walls frame an invisible country, complete with magical creatures and adventures.
Upon a wall like this, the young can bear no responsibility, no burden.
Upon a wall like this, summer breezes can catch the best dandelions.
With a gleaming sun high in the sky,
beating down on fields of gold,
the ocean looks its finest.
From a clifftop vantage point the wind will catch your arms and set you a-sailin'.