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Writer's pictureChristopher

Daughter


Twenty three from me,

twenty three from her,

a tapestry of life interwoven in a blur.


Replicating fast, growing quite apace,

what started out as cells,

left a fetus in its place.


And soon the time will come,

when all we hope to see,

emerges from her mother,

in the world to be.


A perfect child be born,

made from her and me,

a daughter to the world,

for all of us to see.

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