I lost a post about
loss and shoes, sparkling ones
ditched on the curb side.
I lost a monitor; it colourized
then fried. I lost
four daughters: a toddler
Sophia who was not quite replaced
by Lysandre, Natasha, Sarah.
These black-haired girls
enchant my nordic blonde eyes.
I snowshoe over Siberian taiga.
My "why" is the only endearing
quality, yet I toss
Rapunzel out of her tower,
insisting her biography
is my rightful flower.
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