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By John I. Blair

To be reborn
I do not think
We need to die.

Call it wishful
If you must,
But thereís so much

Of me in her
Iím gazing at myself
Across the years.

The sunny smiles,
The instant tears,
Insistent curiosity

For knowing
In her, in me

When I was small Ė
That we are each
A younger child

With siblings
Just the same
In age gap

Caps coincidence.
And when she leans
Against me, snuggling,

Iím sure
That Iíll still be here
After I am gone.

©2014 John I. Blair

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