When I look at old photos of my kids,
Them laughing and crying, a Disneyland ride...
I had more hair then, and I carry the girls
On my shoulders, smiling, unable to hide
The sheer joy of being a "Papa"...
The memories exhumed leave me stupefied
And with a stubborn goofy grin,
I put the photos back inside
The scrapbook, on whose pages
The lost past and my feelings coincide...
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