16000
Her hair was straw, blonde bright yellow and lips were pink as were the rosey lips, I sat hip to hand and then stood, mouth to the window, head tilted, furrowed my brow
Dresses were long and velvet and her palace was full of pearls
Beneath my feet was lineoum outside tarmac and a creaky door
My eyes brown stared back at me, wrapping blue towel around a high forehead and foot that was long sevelte bottom high
There was a sigh as I flung the towel from ear to nose and laughed
Supposed I suppose
If she were me and I were her could all this be why the challenge when I rose ties bright in hair or canerow braided tight
Why the shift in their might
My breast to rest under mothers head also blonde swinging locks
And I'm so so gone so revered so happy here
But mamas hand is not the hand of the world no it ain't
And I am.
