Is It True They Start To Young

It is true, the words you speak and.. no few it is they've heard themes roll from fountain pens of ink..so sweet.. Trapped within it's..is.. they are..for you.. and no release..can come from they.. How they twist and roll and dine.. on mountains tops..within the clouds.. and in the sun...oh...yes the sun... of which they speak..they learn to burn.. sp young and learn..the game.. they ever say they knew the tops..of trees.. the ones they climbed.. to see the world.... and there little sweet gum hands they bend to fly...in by the stream.. dirty little heart shaped faces..smudged.. in leafy green i see..and how they sing... and september is frought..figments.. ivies loose.. inside those heads..