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A Pot of Mud

Last night the boy was thirteen This morning he is thirty To look out of his window Asking ‘where did the days go?’ Like pages of an open book Turned by the wind. But that is truth and that is life To sleep a child and wake a man And…

Twenty Children

Twenty Children Will not be playmates For twenty years. They become workmates Secretly intimidated By each (climbing) step The others make Till they all run (Here and there) Inspired by fear.

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