Among
my souvenirs,
and they are few, is an ideal:
my swoonsome parents
queuing outside The Broadway,
their love as pure as your voice.
They, like you, had their day;
now I, over the years, must pay.
and they are few, is an ideal:
my swoonsome parents
queuing outside The Broadway,
their love as pure as your voice.
They, like you, had their day;
now I, over the years, must pay.

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