A Tonka truck and a sand box,
Are all that is needed by the little boy.
A doll house and a tiara,
Are the little girls pride and joy.
But what of the adult,
Who has let their imagination stale,
Never taking that big leap,
Because of the fear they may fail.
To them the world is dark,
And fate is just a cold shoulder,
The sweet taste of love and success,
By the day grow colder and colder.
They do not dare to dream,
Nor aspire to be something more,
They do not look forward to tomorrow,
For they fear what may be in store.
But they are not lost to us,
These poor and lonely souls.
They only need our helping hands,
To begin to fill their empty holes.
As they stand against the crowd,
They need some love and support.
Because an adult that plays in their mind,
Is treated like a jester in their court.
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