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Reflections | ||
| Smooth as silk the little stream Gives us back a mirrored dream. Leaves above reflect below In a double magic show. Which is real and which is not? If a picture now were shot They would form a single scene, Blending well their shades of green. So it is with people, too. They reflect their parents, true. Traits live on from year to year. In each child they reappear. | ||
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