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How strange to think that someone else
Lived in this house before,
That other people climbed these stairs
And stood on my bedroom floor.
Who was the child who once slept here?
Was it a girl or boy?
What were the dreams that they dreamed?
What was their favourite toy?
How strange to think that someone else
Will live here when I've gone.
Will no one feel my presence here
When I'm the one who's moved on?
by
John Foster
