Through drought and famine, my hand wavered none,
Alone above my scalp, Held high, one foot in front of the other, I carried her name through snow and rain and sleet. She lies below, Hands crossed over her chest And not a dime toward her title. A title will not change, only its sound, A rose by any other name, No other name, my only Rose.
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This page is a patchwork of short stories, one liners, poetic attempts, or allegorical fictions. Archives
February 2018
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