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In Neverland, where men grow small

While memories grow great and tall;

The old ones gather by the fires

And chew the bones of dead desires

White hairs turn in faerie glow

To colors that they used to know;

While tired limbs rustle, remembering

Night winds whip trees, dismembering

One voice starts, stops ? another begins

Until Tales have painted all with grins

They sparkle eyes and brighten smiles:

Grouped close there on the Never Isles

Happy, huddled, hands outstretched

Hearing Tales sweet and farfetched;

They do not see, choose not to know

How fleeting is this night's fire glow

It is enough that they again have seen

And frolicked merry on the green;

That shadows lurk and all things end

Takes nothing from each Tale's pretend

In Neverland, the Awesome Truth

Is that we none truly lose our youth;

It might be misplaced, be hard to find--

May our tender Tales serve to remind

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