beyond all faith, the soul believes
and proof aside, the mind conceives
enough to let the children play
and hunt for colored eggs today
before this magic season leaves
in their pursuit, there’s more it seems
than something of a bunny’s schemes
as if promise stretched its wings
while guided still by apron strings
to seek one of its early dreams
and we, so long past such sweet starts
recall each step, each little part
blissfully so unaware
every moment that we share
renews those dreams in our own hearts
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