I watched a young boy beat his chest and scream at the dawn until the liquid sky drove him away. He chased thunder and butterflies with the same enthusiasm; oozing a lust for living in his chasm of youth. Ten years full of questions and scabbed up knees, freckled dreams running across green fields and sunlit meadows. Golden little life, resting beneath a willow tree to sip the sweetness from the clover and honeysuckle flowers. Hours full of pocketknife afternoons, whittling sticks into arrows to shoot at the moon. And after the rain oh sweet green youth, run barefoot with the wind toward a sinless sky. And live, live live, for tomorrow will come with a sigh.