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Poem: This Child 

This child says:
I knew you a long time ago
when I was old.
That was before
I was born.

She is three.
She orders the world
counting by twos, then hundreds,
then by fives, backward.
She says she is counting down
until she is five again.

This child is not a morning person.
She orders family members by grumpiness.
She is second.
Only adolescence trumps
this child.

This child remembers.
She does not hold a grudge;
she just remembers
farther back
than you
or I.

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