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Goo Goo, Gah-GahSuch a strange title that's what you think, it all makes sense to me, It's all part of my coded language, I am eight months old you see, I function differently from grown ups, and my needs are simply told, I need feeding when I'm hungry, comfort and warmth when I'm cold, I love the feeling of a loving cuddle, I love the security of the embrace, I love the snowflakes falling on my rosy cheeks ,as it tickles on my face, The excitement of moving colours with the multitude of different sounds, Adventures like crawling around, discovering the secrets of my surrounds, Publicly grand-dads can do silly things, make faces and play teet-a-bo, Not worrying who's looking at them, if fact they put on quite a show, Now grandmas just seem to get clucky, an old maternal spirit I did smite, The good thing about grand-parents is, you can hand them back at night, Many strange creatures I come across, such as dogs and cats and birds, You see I'm not sure what they're called, I've still not learned any words, I know my parents really love me, so unconditional and unselfish to boot, Regardless that I can be grizzly and overtired, they all think that I am cute. Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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