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Lack of Imagination

Gratification has long been facilitated by time.
Born a child, not quite fully grown,
Appreciation is limited.
But as the time goes,
It goes, and it goes,
And that mother is as precious as gold.

And as I search for my husband,
I think of my father.
I am a young girl, but I am positive
That a young man,
The perfect image of my father,
Is waiting for me
Just around the corner.

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