The babies babble; then they talk.
They crawl, then stand and soon they walk,
Delighting in their new-found skills;
Observing them gives non-stop thrills.
But as they grow, they'll find some friends
And as their circle thus extends,
Our star will fade as it should do
Though hopefully, our love's the glue
To hold them fast as time goes by
Without the need for how or why.
Yet wistfulness creeps in as age
Bumps most of us off center stage.
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