Traits - Poem by Orlando Belo
When I see your mother,
I see her in you.
You have the same eyes,
and laugh the same too.
When you speak your mind
I hear an echo of your dad,
and when you get annoyed,
it's your dad getting mad.
I feel sorry for our daughter;
she looks a lot like me,
but she already swears like you,
not bad for the age of three.
My son, now he is a strange one,
I don't know who he looks like,
but he does talk with a stutter,
just like the postman Mr Pike.
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