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MY SON by Paul Word

My son,
Slow and steady wins no race
For time change with each pace
So make haste for dreams wait for no man.

My son,
all hands on deck guarantee no success,
For many hands are soiled with doubt
So choose wisely the hands that carries your dream.

My son,
Wait not to see which way the cat jumps
For that vain curiosity kills.

MY SON by Paul Word

Author: admin

I am a member of the WRR editorial team.

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