Mots-clefs

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Wearing a red babygro at 3 months old

Her little puckered face purred up at me as i held her close to my breast.

Dozing contentedly in my arms after her midday feast.

Later together we bathed in the cool air, other swimmers moving out of our reach.

The late crickets fed and baked, their legs so rythmic they beat in time.

All the people had gone when

Pacing the terrace after my swim i turned to see her drowning

Not floating…..

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