Poetry

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Another year,
Another day.
Can you believe how time just slips away?
You're a grandmother, I am yet a mom.
Something you started and generated unto my palm.
Which brings to mind the grace of a mothers hand.
Soft and gentle in times of strain,
A cover to protect from harm or pain.
So many things to say about this single body part, but I know yours touched me from the very start.
Times are not over, but when that time should appear, I know hand in hand
you'll always be near.

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