Sally, a fine read. Nice work. Here
I think of dainty little toes that warmed (no that)
upon the warm stone pot
as I watched lone candle's burn (a lone candle?)
that danced the shadows on the wall (no the)
then how I gripped on comfort cloth (no then)
when illness screamed within my throat
till mother came with soothing voice (her soothing?)
to chase the demons from my bed
Smiles and thanks.
Gary
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Issue 1 ready to read. Poets for Peace.... ˇPoemas sí, balas no!
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