A quiet morning of June, The sun rose with a miracle. The arrival of baby Jude, Oh, and his smile was a spectacle. This tiny new person was a blessing, The beauty his parents had been missing. His coming changed everything, So, of course, he was a precious thing. ‘Tis another quiet morning of June, A momentous one for Jude. The boy has grown to be a flower, Watered by his Maker's shower. From his third floor of life, With a smile, he looks back at life. Without all glory in the race, He has little worry - it is grace. A race not without pain, In his pursuit of the grains of gain. ‘Tis like a calling, difficult to chalk, But he refuses to talk the walk. An erratic race for this go-getter, Is the price he pays to be better. And so, to young Africans is this letter, Since dreaming is free, be a pacesetter.
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