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Three Tired Eyes
They are the only ones who teach me. I am the only one who teaches them. Three tired eyes with flushed cheeks and tousled hair. Three who want to be here and are here. Three tiny voices producing gurgling sounds. From downstairs, we can hear them, so I am sent up to retrieve.
Their wisdom is flourishing. They imprint love into your heart. They sing songs and read books and pour warmth through their small hands into the ones they touch and never quit this love. This is how they show.
Let one forget their reason for being, they’d all drop like bombs on a battlefield, each breaking out into a cry. Grow, grow, grow they do every day. They learn.
When I am too sad and too tired to try learning, when I am weak against so many thoughts, then it is I look at eyes. When there is nothing left to look at on this day. Three who grow together despite age. Three who widen and do not forget to widen. Three whose only reason is to be and be .
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