I know who stole the tarts
because I saw her – jam-smeared
mouth, red as a raspberry,
and fingers all sticky –
I saw her slipping out
into the garden, crumbs
trailing her.
I know who stole the tarts
because I met her
by the sundial,
where the roses
sun themselves,
all red and white,
and she smelt of sugar
and she was smiling.
I’d smile too. Tis a lovely poem of her from you.
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That is all circumstantial evidence. You didn’t actually see her steal the tarts. Don’t rush to judgement. She deserves a trial.
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You are right. I hang my head in shame. There should be a trial πππ
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It is comforting to know that a sense justice has prevailed.
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but did she share them…
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I’d be smiling, too. π
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Damn her! π I love the thought of visiting Alice poetically. You do it well.
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Your words made me smile with their beautiful innocence. Thankx.
Anna :o]
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