I've my mother's eyes of amber hue.
My father's nose, his chuckle too.
The fire in my gut? From Grampa Joe
and, lucky me, Aunt Martha's toes.
I've auburn locks like my Granny Jean
and her wild streak, like you've never seen.
My fingers pop like Papa Matt's.
Got his sneeze too, around dogs and cats.
I've been blessed, I hear, with Angel's voice;
Wish I had been given a choice . . .
She's a doll, always sends her best.
but I'd trade my pipes to have her chest!
My comedic timing? Uncle Dave.
. . . may rotten tomatoes fill his grave . . .
My sense of humor? My brother Seymore:
We laugh with others . . . but at me more.
But my greatest gift is not from kin.
It's from a stranger. No . . . a friend.
A pal that passed, too soon, away,
Three years ago on my tenth birthday.
No pretty paper, nor ribbons, nor bows,
Yet the most beautiful gift she did bestow.
She gave me her love, when her world fell apart:
Gifting hope and life, she donated her heart.
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