The Little Red Book
The Little Red Book: There once was a colour, a colour of dazzling Red, and it made its way onto my little old bed. Through the weaves and stitches and the pillow case, until it found its way into my mind on my face. 'What a colour, what a shade! ' I said I exclaimed, and from that point on no day was the same. Some years had passed, I felt really confused, 'oh what will I do with this Red I can use? ' I stared at a journal, at some ladies then I shook, why don't I just make a Red Little Book? So this Red Little Book was made for me myself and I, 'But couldn't someone else be in this Book? ' I cried. So I made some lists, each one I thought through, so that one day the Red Book would come to you. So think before you say how long it took, to make your way into my little Red Book.
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Comments about this poem (The Little Red Book by Christopher Waite )
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