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Comments about Jessica Prince
I silently saunter to the weathered door,
My hesitant finger presses lightly on a plastic button.
Maybe I should return.
Are memories best left undisturbed?
A bird rustles in the overhead canopy.
The door opens a crack and a cautious eye peeks out,
Then the door is opened in recognition.
A women in loose colourful clothing welcomes me.
Her curly hair swept up in a radiant scarf,
And her furrowed face speckled with paint.
I nervously enter the cavern of my childhood,
I am no longer the child I was.
Little innocent children stare up at me in ...