my motherA Poem by m.s.earlyI learned everything I needed to know in a brown rocking chair in little granny’s living room safe in your lap when I was still a child Your eyes were always wet with love soaking the stories of your family: the rescued raccoon babies, the wolves on little granny’s mountain, the little house dug into its side, your baby sister and the cereal box, My ears were always dry and thirsty for your voice and they still are mama © 2016 m.s.earlyReviews
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Added on May 8, 2016Last Updated on May 8, 2016 Authorm.s.earlyVAAbout"A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it going to sleep." -Salman Rushdie more..Writing
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