Whenever I start to hang my head in front of failure’s face,
    my downward fall is broken by the memory of a race.
A children’s race, young boys, young men; how I remember well,
    excitement sure, but also fear, it wasn’t hard to tell.
The Race Poem - Image Of The Children Racing To Win
They all lined up so full of hope, each thought to win that race
    or tie for first, or if not that, at least take second place.
Their parents watched from off the side, each cheering for their son,
    and each boy hoped to show his folks that he would be the one.

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You are the Man who used to boast
That you'd achieve the uttermost,
Some day.

You merely wished to show,
To demonstrate how much you know
And prove the distance you can go..

Another year we've just passed through.
What new ideas came to you?
How many big things did you do?

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Love is a circle, warm as summer sun,
Making flowers blossom, after winter done.

Love is a circle, coming back to you,
When your love is given, with a hear that is true.

Love is a circle, going up then down,
Reaching to the heavens, returning to the ground.

Like a wheel that's turning a carousel of joy,
Love has a returning which only time can tell.

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