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The dwindling days fly past and I remain, Though freighted by regrets and photographs. The errors and the losses a refrain Repeating, repeating; then someone laughs, Returns me to the moment with a smile. This child, with vast bright future all before, Oblivious to older cares will while Away the hours (seeming infinite); more I cannot ask: the truth I cannot say. A child knows both much more and less than I. The moment past, the truth I cannot stay; Regrets in hand, I wander home and sigh. Death is a secret.  No one speaks his name. But one day we will have to say he came.
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Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 11:32 AM UTC
Days
The dwindling days fly past and I remain, Though freighted by regrets and photographs. The errors and the losses a refrain Repeating, repeating; then someone laughs, Returns me to the moment with a smile. This child, with vast bright future all before, Oblivious to older cares will while Away the hours (seeming infinite); more I cannot ask: the truth I cannot say. A child knows both much more and less than I. The moment past, the truth I cannot stay; Regrets in hand, I wander home and sigh. Death is a secret.  No one speaks his name. But one day we will have to say he came.
elizabeth-campbell-donaldson
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Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 11:32 AM UTC
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