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Swing
I sit on the swing
in the park during night
as I watch tiny stars shining bright
And brighter
And brighter.
I reach for the stars
that are far, far away
and return back to earth that same day.
I move like a wave
with its ebbs and its flows
and its dream, like a plant that still grows
And grows
And grows.
But, alas, time goes on
and I wane like the moon
though I know it’ll start again soon
And sooner
And sooner.
And I sit on the swing
in the park during night
and I watch tiny stars shining bright
And brighter
And brighter.
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But trust that you will swing forward again, for it is in the cyclic nature of a dream.