Are you writin' another poem, Mama?
I like it when you do.
You write about my sisters,
and me and Mommy, too.
Can you read them over and over, Mama?
I never get tired of it.
I promise I'll listen quietly
if on your lap I sit.
Will you always write them down, Mama,
the poems, every day?
And could you please just write one now,
before I run out to play?
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