Richard Randolph

July 3, 1955--Oregon
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A Child Is a Magical Thing

A child is a magical thing.
It breathes air, eats food, and drinks water.
It smiles and knows what it is to be happy.
It cries and knows what it is to be sad.
It enjoys seeing and touching new things,
listening to music, dancing, and exploring,
and asking lots of questions.
It’s very curious about the world,
and about what’s right and wrong.
It also loves being touched, and held,
and walked for hours on end.
If it’s lucky, it knows what it is to be loved,
and will return that love in spades,
but it’ll also love the undeserving and cruel,
because love comes to it naturally,
and it hasn’t yet learned how to hate.
A child forgives all transgressions easily.
It just wants everyone to get along and play together.
It doesn’t care about race, gender, or historical land disputes,
and it doesn’t care about religion,
but it can enter the gates of heaven
at any time without any trouble.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not an angel.
Far from it.
Sometimes, it’ll cry all night for no reason,
and it can be clingy and selfish.
It’s also an expert at peeing and pooping,
and how to make a hell of a mess quickly,
and it’ll do it over, and over, and over again.
But still, it’s almost impossible not to love,
because, well, like I said, it’s magical.
I've no doubt the world would be a better place
if only we could all be more like a child.
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