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Youth is Fleeting
The days fall out like yellow leaves,
With months and years beside.
Our worn out shoes and tattered sleeves,
All carried out by the tide.
The children’s bikes begin to rust,
They’ve become too big to play.
And broken toys are under dust,
In the corner where they lay.
The squeaking of a rocking chair,
Looking out over the field.
Their youth has fled without a care,
For what their lives unsealed.
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