Childhood memories (Remove filter)
Sunday Mass
The strands of us all
lived in a tassled green pouch,
bound by thread and bloodline.
The house that held it
still holds my softest days
in dream sequence;
of them all, slow Sunday afternoons
out back, in the care of hands
that performed miracles -
a table for my dolls to dine,
a wardrobe for their clothes,
a seesaw solid enough
for every one ...
Sunday 11th June 2017 9:16 pm
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