Author Bios
Martina Moudrá
When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse / Out of the corner of my eye / I turned to look but it was gone / I cannot put my finger on it now / The child is grown the dream is gone.
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When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse / Out of the corner of my eye / I turned to look but it was gone / I cannot put my finger on it now / The child is grown the dream is gone.
