There was this little lad
shining pale,playful hands
hopping on the stack of hay
sticks to ward off fear,dust at bay
He hung out of the window
watching for falling stars
when a star fell,he beheld
with glee,made a beeline
Silent eyes tumbled with wishes so fine
bulging with faith,off to gritty road
saline tears flowering to fantasy in tow
world would be his to take the bow
Days lived by,nights turned young
youth's baton begun to wrung
goldfinch,robin,warbler,wren held yen
rambled on, in their gold crest pen
Sundays and the mass in church
a damsel with limpid pools,ye in lurch
love to faults is always blind
a twitch to joy is inclined
Aye,his angel and he sang a lullaby
whetting their appetite to stay bubbly
watering a vale of lilies and roses
chirping with babble of twiddle whee du wah....
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