Raymond A. Foss Poems

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at the wonder of creation
of the fingers of her hand
of the laugh in her smile
bubbles in the corners
of her cheeks
the smell of her changing
the starched newness
of her bib, her small
perfect outfit, still creases
from the store
perfect fingers,
furrowed brow
in slumber in the back yard
nine days home
their little daughter

December 14, 2006 22:23

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