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Click hereShe sits on her chair and coat;
Its fur trim, garland gold,
rests below her shoulders.
If she turns to the left,
A green eye glistens;
a cloudy window curves in its corner.
Her lips are still as fuscias muted in the shade.
Which question teases her to speak?
After noon she slouches too much
And has to pull her jeans to cover the
Trace of blue bikini briefs.
A sensual image. A superb portrait. Altogether, an excellent poem, cleanly written.