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Created on: December 15, 2008
The smell of jasmine is in the air,
And I think of my precious grandchild,
Who will live in my heart forever,
Whose memory blows over me at will,
Like a warm summer's breeze.
And I know not whence it comes
Or whither it goes.
But I suppose
It goes where love abides.
Dedicated to Jasmyne Marie Snyder
June 16, 1994 - June 29, 1994
Learn more about this author, Susan Peabody.
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