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Rosalie Ferrer Kramer

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Member Since: Jan, 2003

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by Rosalie Ferrer Kramer

Thursday, August 28, 2003
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Recent poems by Rosalie Ferrer Kramer
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           >> View all 26

My first child, my first poem. At 22, she seemed to be my miracle. I still feel that way about her. She is now 50. Oops , now you know my age.





I recall someone funny, and oh so dear,

Ten little toes, and tiny pink ears.


A small baby shoe that's not three inches,                   

Lots of kisses, and giggles and pinches.                               


At eight still crying over a shot,                                  

At three too busy to sit on the pot.                            


At eleven too active to pay attention.                          

At fourteen much too crabby to mention.


At sixteen she wanted to drive my car.

At eighteen, from college, we spoke from afar.


Now looking forward as mother may,

I pray that Iris will know some day,


The joy of a baby girl just like her,

Who'll wear those shoes that are oh so dear.                                              




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Reviewed by Marguerite Lemoine 5/2/2006
'fraid I'm quite a bit older than you my dear but still going strong -God will make you like a cypris tree growing near running water
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