What can we surmise
About this world's aspirations
Its perennial adolescence
Its struggles to survive
If left to its own devices
On this lovely fall morning
A few years ago my neighbor's child
All he could do was scream
And now I overhear him say
'Poppa, Poppa, look I...'
One more I in the world
With its pressing needs and joys
And a smile to stop time
With each new word
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