Written for https://skepticskaddish.com/2026/01/21/w3-prompt-195-weave-written-weekly/
Ten tiny toes curl at the edges
no smile yet, but familiar blue eyes
first born, her jet black hair thrives
Ten tiny fingers grip mine
I focus on his cheeks, so familiar
second born, his jet black hair shines
Looking to the heavens
I tell dad of their birth
his third born, love always survives.
I stopped at #2. Enough was enough. lol
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I wanted three, but money, or lack of it got in the way.
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Kids are amazing.
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They are, I don’t remember the pain, just holding them afterwards.
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Lovely poem Diana
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Thank you ❤️
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You’re welcome my friend
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🩷
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Little miracles! How blessed we are to have our children! I love how your poem brings out that sense of the familiar even in their newborn faces.
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We are so lucky, my children are my joy.
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I did go for three and this is just perfect, Diana.
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❤️
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