Child
And from my morphine stupor I heard noise from new lungs and saw small bones ensconced safely in warm soft skin. And a pair of eyes, the sweetest and most searching. Nursing her heat, gentle innocence feeling something so immeasurable and lovely and pure that I had little idea what to do. All light was effervescent and all sound musical and now all year would be a Sunday morning in June.
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Poetry, Prose and MusingsThis page is dedicated to my own work. Here I will post all of the poems and creative writing pieces that I also post on my blog. Archives
September 2017
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