“I don’t know where you got her.”
She is of me, but she is not me.
She is her and she is three.
And so fiercely she.
So loudly, openly, delightfully
Three.
Let her always be
She.
How can she, who is three,
Be so sure, so completely
She, when I am so
Uncertainly me?
A beautiful poem.
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I feel this way about my lovely little girl all the time.
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I wish I was three
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Wonderful poem. Our little ones are beautiful 😊
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