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a fleeting moment in time
There is something beautiful in the way
that two children can sit next to each
other, shoulders touching, speaking
different languages, and not care in the
slightest. There are no boundaries in
the innocence that is being five years old
and blithe to the world and her great
divides. When these children grow up,
they will likely see each other on the street
and nod polite greetings, perhaps holã
at best, or hi, but what does it matter, the
split has widened, the spirits have developed,
and every child's innocence, once lost, is lost
forever. The world has spun in the merry little
way she has, and time has passed, never to be
reclaimed.
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This poem was inspired by my five-year-old little sister sitting next to a Spanish-speaking boy at a nail salon. There was no awkwardness between them, no tension; they were too young to notice the language barrier.