Peeping Tom

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Beyond the mirror lives a lass.
The notion is crass, but she is pretty.
Through the mirror I see her.
See her dancing,
See her singing.
See her alone.

Beyond the mirror lives a lass.
The notion is crass, but she is puerile.
Youth emanates from her.
From her girlish shrieks.
From her hair, as golden as the tassels on her dress.
From her skin, as perfect as the porcelain dolls she dresses.

Beyond the mirror lives a lass.
The notion is crass, but she is perfect.
The tears glisten upon her cheeks.
Upon her cheeks I place my lips.
Upon her cheeks I apply the blush, as rosy as the bushes I'll put her in.
Upon her cheeks tears glisten, as radiant as the moon in the twilight sky.

Beyond the mirror lived a lass.
The notion is crass, but she has perished.
Through the mirror I saw her.
Saw her dancing.
Saw her singing.
Saw her alone.

Through the window I saw her home.
 

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