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The Child Inside The propellers turned, five days had passed, of the child inside, had he seen the last? A child of five, no thought of life's meaning, while his young heart, for his homeland was keening. Hands on the clock turned, as the years swept past, the shadow of the child , was rarely cast. Don't sit there and wonder, why he watches the game. He's seeking the child, not fortune and fame. Happy at last, cherishing every day, sometimes the child inside, comes out to play. |
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