A Sonnet For Gloria
My mother’s eyes of ebony, sparkling stars
Carefully, she paints her lips' gypsy red
A cascade of flowing ringlets, her hair shines from afar
Muscatels quaint flowers, she wore on her head
Her costume; polka-dot, red and white
To have spent more time with dance, her regrets
Her smell unique, perfume is there more delight?
With my small hands...
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