Can we ever dream more gently
than when we dream of our children
and how they came to earth,
with their smiles bringin' heaven
to our eyes of joy and paradise's tune
with their tender age?
Mortal we grow immortal through the touch of their hands
like flowers enchantin', bloomin' from beyond the end.
And while the years grow golden the breath of life won't fade
'cause youth is born forever as the eternal's grace.
(© 2006, Michel Montecrossa)
"Michel Montecrossa Biography"
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