There’s A Little Child

There’s A Little Child

He waits

Holding back the excitement

A toy train in his hand

Looking up at the door

 

He waits longer

Ignoring his mother’s calls

Missing his favourite program

Fixated on the door handle

 

Then carried away

He looks back at the door

The handle remains unturned –

Try again tomorrow

 

The clock’s hands keep moving

There’s no longer a child by the door

But somewhere deep inside

The little child continues to wait

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