A boy who couldn't throw or catch,
some pictures up on soft drink cans,
and dreams, which we're all born to have,
regardless of our births or lands
This was the hope, and it was pure.
I know it now, as then I knew:
that heroes all were children, once,
and children all are heroes,
too
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Tagged: Tags Poetry
Published by Beleaguered Servant
Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.
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