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Children who die
are not really gone –
But go to a place
that is something like home.
Where they sleep the deep sleep
as quiet as stone –
Until we can join them
when our lives are done.
Children who die
are not really dead –
But just like good children
tucked into bed.
Wait the long wait
while we go ahead –
Till our tales are all told
and our tears are all shed.
Children who die
feel no pleasure or pain –
In the place where they wait
till they see us again.
And all of us dance
in a world washed with rain –
Where the sun shines so brightly
no sorrows remain.
– Nicholas Gordon
