I wrote about you
A carved madonna
The wooden baby polished
Something missing, maybe your arm
And some paint
But beautiful, venerable
A figure of devotion maybe
Then someone said be careful,
“negative waves” coming my way.
Solemn, I walk in the herb garden
Of our life, we two women.
Of nothings, and a man,
Is all our strife.Browse Front PageShare Your Idea
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