by Diana J Legun
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Rated "G" by the Author.
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The house was too small for us
Three girls in one room
One boy in the shed
Parents in a curtained-off corner.
We were friends, though; really we were,
But patience is a virtue if not abused
....else it becomes anger
Mother took sister by her shoulders and shook
And shook 'til the nightgown tore in her hands
And hot cocoa spilled all over the new white desk
I bought from working in the wheat fields.
Things are mended now, sixteen years later,
But there are stains
In the cracks of the ol' white desk
So I'll still be able to remember.
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|Reviewed by Lily of Lough Neagh C. Dennis-Woosley
|All of this forms who we are. It's like my poem about a Mother, if it weren't for them along with all the events in our lives we would not be who we are today. Such a lovely visual poem, a memory perhaps? :)
Love and Light
|Reviewed by Richard King
|Many of the "stains" in our lives serve a greater purpose, but rare would be the stain more important than this one.|
|Reviewed by dan Rosenhagen
|Each moment moves into the next, and we
move with them within their changing harmonies.
The past always finds a way to hang on to the present
by its shirt tails, or a stain left in which to remember.
I looked out one day, and saw my neighbor
painting the old wood in his house with the most
beautiful color, changing what once was.