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Look over to the corner of the yard, 
Beyond the boys playing football, 
And the girls playing jump, 
Past the teachers gossiping, 
Telling tales of their weekend past. 
To the corner 
Where no-one glances, 
But where everyone can see. 
Peter rests upon the rock  
He rests upon each day 
On every break, 
The teachers gossip 
And watch some children play. 
Looking for happy children, 
Smiling children. 
Not Peters. 
Peter is Seven  
Alone and sad. 
Lonely tears tumble down his soul, 
Past his heart, 
Reaching his toes. 
No-one thinks of toes. 
No-one thinks of Peter. 
Tears are his metaphor, 
Rain doesn’t have to fall  
For ground to be wet. 
Why can no-one see? 
When lunch is over, 
Where does he go? 
When school is over, 
Where does he go? 
Some children,  
Have no-where to call home 
Some children, 
Have no-where to be.  


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The following comments are for "Peter's"
by C.Lynagh

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