The Aries Woman is woven of thinner threads than those who see her surface confidence ever suspect. She is many things more than a fireball of impulse. She's the ecstasy she felt when she buried her nose in the fragrance of the bouquet of violets she picked in an elf-haunted, shady corner of the yard when she was three...the kitten she watched get run over by a streetcar...she's red kites and yellow balloons, the rainy days of childhood...the newborn baby a lady on the bus let her hold in her arms when she was nine, and acting out a private madonna make-believe...the snow sparkling under the street light she truly thought were dimonds...the spanking with a wooden paddle her forth grade principal gave her at recess, before everyone in school...she's the sunrise someone forgot...the song someone remembered...she's the first belly smacker in the pool, when she was trying desperately for a swan dive...and more.
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