Down at the church the flower girl sits. Legs innocent, apart. nI make the picture puzzle fit to start your heart. nPainted sister stopped beside. A word upon her saintly lip. nPerhaps admonishing the child inside the open slip. nI don't know where she might go when she runs home at night. nIt's for the best: I wouldn't rest when I turned out the light. nNo little flower girl singing in my troubled dream njust an old man's model in a pose from a magazine. nnI have touched that face a dozen times before. And I have let my pencil run. nLaid down washes on a foreign shore, under a hot and foreign sun. nMy best sable brushes drift the soft inside of her arm. nHer chin I tilt, her breasts I lift. I mean no harm. nnI close the door. She is no more until the next appointed hour. nNortheastern light push back the night: painted promises in store. nNo little flower girl singing in my troubled dream njust an old man's model in a pose from a magazine. nnDown at the church my flower girl sits. Legs innocent, apart. nI make the picture puzzle fit to start your heart. nMy golden sable brushes drift the soft inside of her arm. nHer chin I tilt, her breasts I lift. I mean no harm. nI mean no harm. I mean……n