not the olders not the youngest but somehere in between
a middle child can somewhere be lost amid life's daily routin
you never got to be the first at any new great stage
nor the last to treasure a final special age
my son
sticky fingers dirty face
rugs and pillows out of place
cars and trucks here and there
playing robots without a care
gold and silver I have none
but worth millions is mamer my son
mamer
don't forget your old man
love dad
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