With her shadow separated sharply and thrown
Into a corner
By a halo of musty blush,
Dust and mom-scent, she stands staring
her scared doll-face in its mirrored eyes;
Sweet six, soft and four-foot nothing.
Carefully and calm as cold hands
Places the point
Of bright crimson cheap hot lipstick on lips
her rag-doll posy of lips that are crinkled and pouting for me,
Playing my baby-pink leading lady.
She strokes the soft teeth bristles
Through her hair which glistens
Hot in panting lamplight, nervous and naive
As her smile of idolised
Idol-eyes shine so shyly into mine.