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Poetry: My son

by Kristy Bolander

There were coins and a crown,
There is a chest buried deep down.
A hand reaches but stops before the pile,
A heart changes when eyes find the child.
There was a sorrow in a face so kind,
There is happiness yet to find.
A person reaches out to draw the youth in,
A new life has yet to start again.
There were some jewels stored away,
There is a child who with a chance to play.
A treasure is worthless is a person's eyes,
Except a child valued most as it blesses lives.

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