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an oddball out of evelyn waugh,
she is ample and comfortable
as an old armchair.
when you embrace,
her cumbersome bosom
wedges between you,
an intractable defence,
holding you at arm’s length.

she dresses daintily
in frills and flounces,
all coordinated in shades of pink,
like a fairytale princess,
ballet pumps on her fat flat feet
and silken fuschia ribbons at each ankle.

she could’ve come out
of a lewis carroll rabbit hole,
having been inflated
by an importunate refreshment
demanding to be eaten.

but she is kind and loyal,
all chintz and cotton wool,
full of love and forgiveness,
like a favourite toy,
you take to bed in sickness,
faded, stained and patched
yet an endless consolation.

Image from plumbscurtains.co.uk.