Whirlwinds whirl like winds whirl,
And wind whirls like whirlwinds
But why can’t wind wind the whirlwind
Instead of the whirlwind winding the wind?
If whirlwinds didn’t wind the wind like whirlwinds wind,
Then winding winds wouldn’t be of this world,
Not would wind want to whirl,
Or whirling would want to wind
But wouldn’t whirlwinds want to wind the wind like whirlwinds wind?
And wouldn’t the wind want to be wound by whirlwinds like whirlwinds are wound?
Perhaps the wind wouldn’t want to whirl the wind like wind is whirled?
She entered, a fresh face, full and unseen,
A stranger to us all, yet also known,
Wearing a red robe, a bit like a Queen,
Clinging tightly around her, having once flown,
And stood in the centre of the large room,
Retaining a still posture, tall and straight.
We stood behind easels and fairly soon,
As promptly as always and never late,
Our teacher arrived dressed in purple
Clothes which were stained with colour; red and blue
And black and said, “This is your life model
For today’s class, a great model for you,
So choose your medium.” And as we chose
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