That's a bear, Frances.
Yeah, says Frances.
Do you want to feed the bear?
Frances smiles and shakes her head happily.
What should we feed it? Apricots maybe?
Yeah, says Frances.
Do you want to feed the bear?
Frances smiles and shakes her head happily.
What should we feed it? Apricots maybe?
Yeah, says Frances.
The bear wears a soft smile.
And I have a soft heart for him.
He belongs to Frances's mother.
The bear feeds on invisible apricots.
And I have a soft heart for him.
He belongs to Frances's mother.
The bear feeds on invisible apricots.
Frances disappears behind the sofa.
The bear stays still.
The afternoon grows into evening
like Frances's hands looking more like my own.
The bear stays still.
The afternoon grows into evening
like Frances's hands looking more like my own.
-- Joseph Hurtgen
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