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| Reviewed by Phyllis Jean Green |
11/16/2006 |
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| Know the feeling!! Am writing this on a gray, soggy day. Nearly all the leaves have fallen. But here and there, brave souls hang on. . .like us? 'Least we have the memory of. . ."crackling!" Luv'n'Hugs, Pea |
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| Reviewed by Regis Auffray |
4/1/2006 |
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I've been accused many times of "never having grown up." That's okay by me. You effectively share your sentiments via your verses, Janet. Thank you for this offering. Love and peace to you,
Regis |
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| Reviewed by Connie Hinnen Cook |
3/30/2006 |
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| There's a saying something like, "We don't stop laughing because we grow old, we grow old because we stop laughing." Live as though each day is a miracle, and the creeping damp and cold won't undo as severely. :) Great write! |
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| Reviewed by Ian Thorpe |
3/30/2006 |
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I know the answer to this.
See that pile of mucky, mouldy leaves. Just close your eyes and jump right in (go on, don't worry about what the neighbours will think) and they will be crackling and autumn-smelling again.
Forget the "inner child," its us that go inside, not the child.
Ian
(one who never went inside) |
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| Reviewed by Peter Paton |
3/30/2006 |
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Janet
A splendid and nostalgic write, that takes you back down memory lane...:)
We will just have to summon those hidden reserves of energy ...lols
Peter |
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| Reviewed by Ken Chartrand |
3/29/2006 |
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Hi Janet,
Great poem! Very nostalgic. A longing for that certain vitality we all
once had. |
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| Reviewed by Birgit and Roger Pratcher |
3/29/2006 |
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This sounds like lots of fun and the good old times,
Birgit and Roger |
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| Reviewed by Sandie Angel |
3/29/2006 |
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Fond memories and great longings. Well-done, Janet!
Sandie May Angel a.k.a. Sandie Angel :o) |
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