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At the end of the rainbow,
there is a pot of gold...
So says the story old.
Fairy tales, and bedtime
Stories have lost it's the charm
And glory.
Not in the eyes of a child, they
Hold it's magic mild.

I watch their eyes open wide
Their excitement so hard to
Hide.
A knight in shining armor, gleams
As the castle banner streams.
Snow White, awakes,
the forest shakes
the spell is broken...
And hope is spoken.

Now the stories are so real a 
Bedtime story has little appeal
That pot of gold we no longer hold
If we strive, we can keep the fantasy 
Alive.


Once upon a time, there was a King
Who gave me a ring, he was a happy
Ruler, but with his Queen, his days became
Fuller.

On and on we go, the creative process
Pass around.
If we identify the moral of each story
To appreciate it's sound.
So if  fantasy can live, we can see it has 
Much to give.

So once upon a time, We told stories
In Rhyme, we found the joy in unlikely
Places, and brought smiles on our children.
Faces.





 


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Once Upon a Time