Your name was different then,as were the words i wrote.I stumbled more then, andloved using vocabulary, thatwas not mine at all. I scrambledto spit sh..
I wrote a poem about a pine treedrooping under the weight of snow.I was meant to paint a picture ofa burden I've carried for a while.Trees die,my burd..
Husky green leaves clutch to limbs that bore them,but many of the splashy reds, and yellows have jumped.3 snows visited here already; the kind of that..