With eyes closed when i remember the rear,
i look at the time that went with tears.
With half-a-broken eraser and a crazy ball,
sometimes over the bench, sometimes in front of the wall.
Was it the love of the shining pencil box or the candy stall,
running between the woods, dint cared if i had a fall.
Worries were less and eyes had a shine,
I had no reason to race with the time.
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