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Red Cherry Red
Poem

I was born with a map of Australia on my face;
it was beautiful, my mother told me – 
there was nobody like me in the whole wide world
who could trace the edges of down under

Give The Ball to the Poet
Poem

We don' have a Springtime like some folk
Who live in dem colder place,
but we have a time when de soft rain come,
an' tease open de seedcase
o' de poincianna and de trumpet tree,

Red Cherry Red
Poem

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