I always considered you littered my home,
Small knickknacks adorning overcrowded shelves.
The marble statues you bought from lovely Rome,
I leave them there, a memory of ourselves.
And in gay Paris, you just went mad with joy
Those miniatures saucers, jugs and a vase,
Insisting each was her special lovely toy,
Dainty trivialities, there's no more space.
But without Limoges, can one...
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