the dog and the priest talked and came to the conclusion that no one loved them, not really.

that’s her right there, do you see?

awkwardly dancing around, but happy,

in her pajamas, the shirt holey and the bottoms frayed and

worn thin, almost to translucence 

and her feet socked;

the left one has fallen into a purple puddle around her ankle.

she dances (to her own merry tune)

and she laughs, and her red hair twirls around her

a dancing dancing flame.

she laughs, and her eyes laugh too

she laughs, and it makes me happy.