Poetry: Old Photos
‘…They keep saying that she’s me’

There’s this little girl
In all the old photos —
She takes the place
Where I would be
They keep saying that she’s me.
She has the widest smile,
Sparkliest eyes
There’s this little girl
In all the old photos —
She takes the place
Where I would be
They keep saying that she’s me.
She has the widest smile,
Sparkliest eyes
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Writer, (book) blogger, reader, poet @ dorareads.co.uk , Queer, weird, bookish rebel. Welsh as a tractor on the M4. She/Her. Buy me a coffee @ ko-fi.com/ceearr