She sighed.

“I can’t write like you,

with your weaving wrinkles

and dime shaped gold

your nesting tableaux

in colours that fold

so neatly in parameters

that have never been told…”

said Lily to her bear. Her very first bear. Still first after wonderful, adventurous, fun filled, pensively shaded years.

“Well, that’s because you aren’t a bear”.

 

 

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hi. friendly banter is always welcome.

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