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When I first learned of color, I entered a world of vivid possibilities. When I heard my first sound, I was no longer at a loss of words. In the beginning, Never once did I imagine the day When it would all start to fade. As the years past, The world lost its shimmer. No longer were the roses as red Or the words on a page as crisp. No longer was thunder's clap as loud Or song of the wind as melodious. Never once did I imagine a gift once gained would be stolen away.
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Mar 11, 2020
Mar 11, 2020 at 12:26 AM UTC
As I Grow Old
When I first learned of color, I entered a world of vivid possibilities. When I heard my first sound, I was no longer at a loss of words. In the beginning, Never once did I imagine the day When it would all start to fade. As the years past, The world lost its shimmer. No longer were the roses as red Or the words on a page as crisp. No longer was thunder's clap as loud Or song of the wind as melodious. Never once did I imagine a gift once gained would be stolen away.
Violet-smithe
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Mar 11, 2020
Mar 11, 2020 at 12:26 AM UTC
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