She climbs into my chair; all legs and arms, all grown.
She doesn't really fit there. Yet, she seems at home.
Something inside that body, defying me, growing up in haste.
A babe still rests there; in her heart, if not her face.
She still seems to want the warmth of the one who held her first.
And, for this, I will always be grateful.
This life, once mine, given birth.
'
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