to gain by workA Poem by Laura Lynn Close
echoes in the hollow hills,
rinsed washcloths in the sink, are like echoes in hospitals, racing time makes you think. but what is it that untangles Eden, or makes an Eden out of ill. Nothing but the window sill, the green of Springtime, so new, enough of this folly, to be so low, not good enough for half the world... © 2017 Laura Lynn Close |
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