For Robyn At Thirty-NineA Poem by hollyNot a sterling piece of writing but at least I'm writing
The scrap of child I held, the one with fierce blue eyes and just a wisp of black above the tiny gritted jaws, is now a full flowered woman. Constantly finding her grace in a tight-rope world, she’s grown joyful and tired, stretched out and warm. Not yet too old to play, but not so young she doesn’t know the costs, she walks her powerful walk through her world with love. My beloved daughter, know your time for rest will come - and your spirit never fades. © 2008 hollyFeatured Review
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8 Reviews Added on August 16, 2008 Last Updated on October 25, 2008 Authorhollynear Cleveland, OHAboutDo we get to choose who we are, or are we limited by where we live, how we grow up, what we do to earn money? My unchosen facts: I'm old, live in the eastern Mid-West US, grew up with a huge chip on m.. more..Writing
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