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The Child's Toys 
By Melissa B., Winchester, MA
The little boy lay in his bed,
A pillow underneath his head.
His pale face lay in troubled sleep -
He need not even wake to weep.
On the shelves there stand his toys,
The ones who brought him many joys.
They yearn to be touched by little hands -
The buckets to be filled with sand.
The cars want to see out the door,
But the toys or the child will see no more.










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