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It started the year of her two's.
She kept on removing her shoes.
Her socks became stained,
So barefoot she remained,
Giving her mother the blues.
And when she was no more than three
She had a desire to be free.
Her skirt disappeared,
As her mother had feared,
And her diaper everyone could see.
The year that Rose became four
She began to show even more.
Her mother just cried
And then nearly died
When Rose skinny-dipped on the shore.
When five was the age Rose became,
She had lost all sense of shame.
Lady Godiva did ride,
But Rose had such pride,
She shaved her head free of her mane.
Now skip to age twenty for Rose.
That's when she just gave up on clothes.
Her closet was bare,
Like her head without hair.
Not even a ring for her toes.
So now you know Rose's bare start,
No hair on her head for to part.
So Heather's a scamp,
And Rose is a tramp,
But her beauty makes her a Sweet Tart!
This is in response to Run-Around Rose by David Pekrul which can be read at http://www.prose-n-poetry.com/display_work/18286
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