In me is a dream of a long life full,
The memory of a rope swing pull,
Where countless treasures have yet to be found,
And the grass on Earth is not just ground,
Where imaginary beings in the closet might lie,
And aspirations are too young to die,
Where birds hop so lightly and always sing,
And it is never certain what tomorrow may bring,
Where the corn in the field is not just tall,
But a perfect playplace for one and all,
Endless possibilities hidden under the sky,
When the world is viewed through a young child's eye.
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