66 THE CEDARVILLE REVIEW Freckles by Lauren Crider Someone spilt chocolate chips Onto your milky arms, Melting them into freckles Equally dark, almost perfectly round. My freckles look like I stood Beside a kindergartener watercoloring, Mixing the blues and greens and reds Into a watery brown, Flinging his brush onto the construction paper. I looked up as you were looking down. And noticed that the sun Had also kissed your forehead. My freckles always trickle down from my nose to my shoulders Like the sun cried on me.
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