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Apr 2017
Sometimes I catch glimpses of tiny faces with hollow eyes that I can't see.
Passing at a distance through a nightmare as I sleep.
Their fleeting shadows draw me with them, to a place where lost tears weep,
for the forgotten souls of the missing children for whom desperate parents will always seek.
Ralph w Huber
Written by
Ralph w Huber  Sweet home Oregon
(Sweet home Oregon)   
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