Poetry Blog by Ann Foxglove (contentment)
It’s that time of the morning
when widows walk their dogs
avoiding the space at the breakfast table.
When frustrated wives ride horses
down the valley, just for the rub.
The beach is empty and the sea is warm.
I paddle and invent a song.
Sitting on a damp cold rock
I let the wind dry my feet
and I think
life is not so bad
for a woman witho...
Wednesday 10th August 2011 3:35 pm
- 2011 (1)
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