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My Child

5th of Tov ag Yermey,  426 E.S.
 


 

Oh how tiny your hands and feet are.

How pale are those fatty cheeks of yours.

Oh how light the color of your hair

How soft and plush your legs feel.

 

Oh how you latch onto my finger,

How tender your grasp is.

Oh how you squirm around in my arms,

How your arms flail when you are uncomfortable.

 

Oh how those eyes watch the world with wonder

And how your loud cries break my heart.

Oh how you crave our attention, how could I not give you such.

And how soft and genuine your laughs are.

 

Oh how you are the light of my life,

How you bring so much joy to me.

Oh how you will be forever mine.

How I wouldn’t do anything for you.

 

Oh how much you look like your parents,

How well mirrored our features are on you.

Oh how could anyone not love a person such as you.

How precious is my little one. 

 


 

Signed,

Borris Iver Kortrevich KML

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Eileen Kortrevich cooed over their newborns with a smile as Borris recited his poetry.

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Hamish Kortrevich, one of the poet's children, would be a newborn and therefore unable to read the poem. Therefore he would politely request to his parents to be fed by crying loudly, as expressed in the beautiful poem @lalosia@tcs_tonsils_

Edited by Lokvank
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