A little girl and her doll.
She wipes her nose
one handed while clutching
to the red curls.
So perfect yet imperfectly
awkward just like her.
Safe and warm
they sit for tea.
One cup?
No, two cups
it will be.
Swinging over the
great big hole.
Watching the
old dog house.
Where did
that dog go?
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Poetry for your heart not for your head.
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