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Life is not as it appears |
| He was old and bent, his skin wrinkled, hair grayed When he raised himself, he stooped, not stood His limbs shook, clothes were faded and frayed His frame was slight from insufficient food. He was young at heart, from his frail lips gushed wisdom Stories he would spin to show this forth In them were hid lessons for life, paths to freedom Children screamed with laughter, men frowned in thought When he would smile-beware, the tale was of pain, And when he frowned it turned out smooth The old storyteller made it plain- Life is not always as it appears. |