The Family Heirloom
“Why words, when they’re so slippery?” Whisperings find me standing At the bridge — Squinting through light and darkness To see what’s left to hold as tra...
“Why words, when they’re so slippery?” Whisperings find me standing At the bridge — Squinting through light and darkness To see what’s left to hold as tra...
Winter enfolds my many faces soothes scars left by scorching words darkness a refuge. But come spring― call me by any name and I will let go of dead weight shed...