“Dolls” by Ron Marsh

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I have a baby sister,

I often think she’s cute,

The way she smiles and gurgles,

And bares her one front tooth.


One day she will grow up like me,

And I am nearly eight,

Then she and I can play with dolls.

We’ll  take them out the gate.


We’ll push our strollers up and down

And we’ll go parading,

Just like little mothers,

With babies, promenading

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