I see the face of the man you will become
The angle of your cheek
The o of your mouth
Tell me your future
More than the palm of your hand
Sometimes it is as though I am holding an adult in my arms
Instead of the child I would protect with my life
Moments or minutes later
Your face returns to its soft childishness
Plump skin and lips and cheeks
I see him still
My son the man
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