I
gaze inside myself and see
One who once was twenty-three,
With all of life stretched out ahead
And no idea where she’d be led.
One who once was twenty-three,
With all of life stretched out ahead
And no idea where she’d be led.
That
person still exists inside.
Her presence cannot be denied;
But much of life is now behind
And strange to say, I do not mind.
Her presence cannot be denied;
But much of life is now behind
And strange to say, I do not mind.
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