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Click here to read the next poem. Aging By Sophya Vidal The whispering echoes of long ago— seem to call my feet today. The childhood—wrapped in a bow, gracing and forming all that I say. Ah, remembering those rainy afternoons, or the victory in my games, spreads my past like free laid runes, or freshly paved lanes. How fleeting youth is built, or perhaps simply the innocence, it seems— Yet like the stitches of a quilt, it’s what helps construct our future dreams. © Copyright, Sophya Vidal
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