by Linda L Wolf
Friday, November 09, 2001
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My 8 month old son.
He is so small, he does not know,
The summer sun, the winter snow.
A little world he feels and sees,
His mother's arms, his mother's knees.
As he suckles his mother's breast,
He does not care to learn the rest.
Full and warm he finally sleeps,
Around his finger my heart he keeps.
His little smile lights up my day,
For him I give thanks when I pray,
I believe he is a gift from above.
He is my first and only love.
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