Maybe Next Year
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The night is cool
I’m in line by you.
They think of us “fool”
To wait for the clue.
In line for 2 hours,
It never seems as long.
New friends are now ours,
At 11, we here the gong.
We rush for the paper,
Never trampling a foot.
A dollar a layer,
Searching for loot.
With the love for the search,
And our pride by our side.
The parks are our church,
As we hunt city-wide.
We search on the ‘net,
And chat with our friends.
Do we want it? You bet!
Will we find it? Depends.
As the clues, they all dwindle;
Others patience is thin.
Our hearts will rekindle,
“We hope they don’t win”.
The last clue appears,
It soon will be won.
We must face our own fears,
The hunt is all done.