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A Three-Years’ Child
She was restless in Mass, a three-years’ child
And in her patient father’s loving arms
She wriggled
She squiggled
She giggled
And then she lay ‘way back and looked ‘way up
What went she into the desert to see -
A light fixture? An air-conditioning vent?
Oh, no
Her eyes were large
Her lips were still
Her breaths were soft
- she saw much more
She was happy in Mass, a three-years’ child
And from her father’s arms something she saw…
What?
Who?
She smiled
(And of course she may have been delighted with the vision of an air-conditioning vent after all; a small child’s learning curve is more open to joy than ours)
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