I have never met you Megan and it's unlikely that I will
As you live in Mordialloc and I at Clifton Hill
But I know a bit about you going by what your mother say
You are active for an eight year old no rest for mum all day.
I have never asked your mother what colour shade your hair
Or if your eyes be blue or brown of such facts I'm not aware
But I know you must look pretty, you'd have to be 'twould seem
Just from looking at your mother the beautiful Christine.
I've been told you have a handicap if there is such a thing
But you live near to heaven's gate where joyful angels sing
You will always have your innocence you will always be a child
A sunlit rose of summer by elements unspoiled.
You'll never suffer from depression or prolonged misery
Or be burdened by life's problems of such weights you feel free
Wish I were like you Megan but 'twas not meant to be
As I feel crippled by the handicap of hyper sensitivity.
I have never met you Megan and shook your tiny hand
But I know what you must be like and I can understand
One day you'll be an angel and sing your song of joy
In blissful land of happiness beyond the starry sky.
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