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Call out the joys,

As the sprinklers roar with freedom

Run against the spray of spring,

Barefooted on grass,

Dance in the splashes of life.

Call out the joys.

Rise up early and race to the ocean

For the glimpse that spans a breath’s hold.

Fixate your eyes on the restless endless horizon

Who warms your soul with every advance.

Call out the joys.

Sombre days seem faint in the presence of Joy

Yet in their season, they visit to warm our beds.

When the sun shuns the surface,

When the rain is a salted memory

There each day its load it gives,

Like an overfilled laundry,

The heart does not go through every emotion,

But the influx of corrosion confuses and defuses meaning

And joy is roasted.

Do we fall short of good times?

Good times are like the sun that hides behind the tyrant clouds terror,

Joy is a distant lover

Who has forgotten his name for you.

Remember to call out the joys,

So often the same cloth wipes the surface and soon

The surface loses its face

As the clothe fades in threads

And life becomes a matter of imprints.

Call out the joys,

And keep the youthfulness regenerative

For they cradle us in sombre days

And in them have a promise of a returning valiant.

Like the first catch of life as sun breaks

Dusk into morning…and mildew waters spit on the sleeping grass.

Call out the joys,

Full of grandeuresque beauty and bounty.

 

…need a closing line.

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