When did the emerald grass turn brown,
When did the sun’s rays stop beating down,
When did the blue sky turn so gray,
Where did the children go to run and play,
What about the crickets that lulled me to sleep,
Or the baby birds that would wake me with a peep,
The warm air locking me like a mother’s embrace,
The sight of a bright and lively place,
Have all run away to return in a year,
And with that summer leaves like a fleeting deer.