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Childhood is but a leaf in the wind,
That grows as the seasons come and go.
One moment it is there,
Then the next it is gone.

When we are little,
We wish to be older.
Though, the tables turn,
And everything goes upside down.

As the leaf in the wind travels one place to the next,
The childhood is almost at its end.
Don’t blink,
If you do, you might just miss it.

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