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  • Imagination


    An old man sits pondering,
    His mind endlessly wandering,

    Thinking of events from his past,
    Amused at how he seemed to live so fast,
    Out of all of his friends left he is the last,

    His mind passing through his own history,
    And thinking of his future's mystery,

    His eyes wander to the nearby pond,
    A place he once came with a girl of whom he was fond,
    But now all he saw was a reflection beyond,

    But the reflection was not his own,
    But of that a child barely grown,

    The clouds above being the only witness,
    The child smiled back with sweetness,
    And in his mind came completeness,

    This old man was not truly such an age,
    But a child who's mind was as creative as a story's page,

    And little Timothy realized,
    That the old man he visualized,
    Was only something his imagination idealized,

    As his mother called from away,
    Timothy thought "that's enough imagining for one day".