I’ve seen her before.
A slight girl clothed in a scarlet dress, holding balloons.
She was printed out on Kodak premium photo paper.
The picture was hanged on a burgundy wall,
Exposed in a genteel frame made of refined gold fabric.
Upper class, I suppose.
Daddy had taken this portrait.
She was nine.
No smile, no tears.
Just that look, that awful ( Read more... )