A Child

Running in the cold

She smiles

And smiles

As she runs to me

Holding a wooden doll

Smiling with placid grin

.

She asks me

To play with her

To go to the merry-go-round

And spin it for her

In the wind

.

I put my windy hair

In my cap

And walk up to her

With a baby-voice

.

She glares

Telling me

She’s not a child

But as she runs

I see her smile

And the red

On her cold cheeks

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