Wednesday, November 02, 2005

In the silence of the mind
Her crying little fingers
Etched their way inside my memory
It was the tearstained shutters blinding
Her to the joyfulness of spring
To the life sprouting just for her to see.

No comments:

Marmite and Peanut Butter

 The spreads came home today not the ones I first brought in These are generations removed from their founding slathers... Yet somehow the s...