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Barbara, My Ladybug

October 23, 2017

My Barbara was a ladybug.
(A ladybug was she.)
Her shell was bright tomato red.
Her spots were numbered three.

If Barbara didn’t care for you,
She wouldn’t have to say.
She almost never had to speak.
(She’d simply fly away.)

I spotted her one summer
On a bench beside the sea.
I’d only just been seated there there
When Barbara came to me.

How beautiful she looked that day!
Her shell was shiny red.
Her spots were black and numbered three,
And not a word was said.

No, not a word, and not a sound,
Did either of us make,
Until I introduced myself.
It was a small mistake.

I saw it then. Our love affair
Was never meant to be,
For Barbara made her feelings known
And flew away from me.

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