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For you, I’d change the world,

back many moons, those unchained hay days

when we were young, not an ounce of weight

upon these slim shoulders weighed

nor a map for the road, just the sky as it were

dark, vast and sparkling

under whose influence we swayed

like young branches of now old trees

beside whom many a words were whispered

of promises and dreams dared for

despite the impossibility of mountains

out of mole hills

and dates that dissolved

a bit too soon for my liking

and there it was, that old age staring back

from the lined face for each lifetime I lived

in amongst the many stories told.

Time, how it changes worlds.