NeverA Poem by Emile Grayson
My son has been drawing
in the kitchen for the last hour. I spend half that time scanning a spreadsheet in my office, and the other half talking with my wife as she stands at the door. Harry never sees her. Never looks at her. I have not told him yet. When I walk into the kitchen and ask him what he's drawing, he answers with, "I'm drawing the three of us. I want to show mommy after she comes home."
© 2017 Emile Grayson |
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Added on February 10, 2017 Last Updated on February 10, 2017 Author
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