Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Ballad

There was a little tricycle,
A painted vibrant red,
It dreamed of life in the big top;
Was in storage instead.

There were the days when it road high-
Now just a memory
Because the little Danny Boy
Had passed the age of three.

But this big dream did never die,
Not even as years passed.
For he knew he would have that hope
One day fulfilled at last.

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