A Cat’s Last Summer
Still the warblers forage, in silence,In myrtle fragrance as August turns autumnal. Day after day she sitsOn the same patch of grass,Her senses waning, the well-deep eyes enlargedBut not for…
Admission
Within the sooty pages of a half-read memoir, I find a pictureof Papa and me. Taken after we tumbled out of the death-defying rollercoaster ride. Hung lopsided, his smileunsure if…
- Go to the previous page
- 1
- …
- 49
- 50
- 51
- 52
- 53
- 54
- 55
- …
- 74
- Go to the next page