Pens, pencils and babies

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Daughter of my daughter.  

I’m a born writer.  My mother said that if she’d put a pen in the bathroom I’d write a song on it.  

When my daughter was old enough I had to hide pens.  Not because she wrote words… no. She drew pictures. 

Her heart was so full of vision that no surface was untouchable by her artistic hand. 

Now you see the perpetuity of the artistic flare.  My baby drew on her baby; it’s beautiful and so is she.  

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