Of skin
Of dry grass and ancient bark
The afternoon draws quietly in;
Down by the silver birch
Mushrooms have melded into earth,
The paper is a script of lines
Old riddles I cannot find;
My fingers seek to solve
The mysteries of braille songs.
poetry and prose by Shaista Tayabali
So, according to trusty, reliable Jonathan Cainer, reader of the stars, today, Armistice Day, is also a symbol of rebirth in the magic of nu...
2 comments:
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