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Never Never LandIn the time between Sleeping and waking, Clocks on the wall Do not tick, And grown ups turn Into children And leave all Their clutter behind. They live in another Dimension, And float and flow At a whim. They see through Young tinted glasses, And dance in the Sweetness of spring! Joy Weare. 29th January, 2005. Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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