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Grandson

He was just an idea.
An abstract thought.
But thought is father to the deed.

He became one and on he did grow.
The time it took, seemed to go so slow.
Three stages appeared
Then he was complete.
From the hair on his head
To the toes on his feet.

This piece of flesh
Took a breath, was made man.
Made me a new person,
A person called Gram.

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