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The Days Of Our LivesWe made it through childhood with cuts and bruises, Playing games that children do Nothing was too much for us. Rockets glaring on 4th of july, Christmas mornings put a smile on faces, Old broken down cars still drove us places. Playing cowboys and indians out on the land, Running across the yard, playing in the sand. Teenage years were tough, Boys, music, proms, dates, We could never get enough. Motherhood came with rewards of it's own, Little ones have a way of making you reap what you've sown. Then they move out and get a life of their own to start, And take with them a piece of your heart. The days of our lives sometimes end too soon, Why waste it by talking to the man in the moon. Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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