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Dear Angel
Your nicknames come to mind.
Those silly names we used all the time.
We’d call you over.
We still remember…
Now all we have are the echos.
Of the names we used to know.
Your real name no longer makes me cry.
But “Sweetheart” brings a tear to my eye.
I remember,
That time in December.
You climbed the Christmas Tree.
We called you “Wild Thing.”
Sometimes, you were “Princess.”
We would obsess.
And now you are “Angel.”
No longer in this world we know.
Copyright ©
Angelica Tao
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