Christmas Cards
everyone just everyone there could possibly be on every kind of chair there possibly was (if they were lucky) or …
everyone just everyone there could possibly be on every kind of chair there possibly was (if they were lucky) or …
Time moves swiftly through revolving doors, Trying desperately to make each moment part of the past. Oh, that time could …
My dear Aimie sits on a window-box cushioned seat watching walkers and cars moving hither and yon through mid-day …
In a dying desert lost, Wandering long by paths unknown, Our lives are tempests’ victims, blown As if dry leaves …