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All you see is outside me: my painted smile,
the rosy-posy shell, the fluttery eyes.
A butter-won’t-melt-in-my-mouth-type me


The hidden garden we played in 
was bordered in red brick.
Crenellations of a faded fort,
ivy-scattered and wing-aged.
A Victorian garden.

Red Cherry Red

I spied a small lonely boy.
I was his beautiful red balloon,
from morning through to noon,