"The Authentic Reader"
I wrote the old woman down
and thought, for one foolish minute,
that the words were mine.
She sat there holding her afternoon together
with a shopping bag, a blue coat,
and a patience only from cracked hands.
......
Who dares to be themselves in a cruel world?
Who wouldn’t dare?
"The Authentic Reader"
I wrote the old woman down
and thought, for one foolish minute,
that the words were mine.
She sat there holding her afternoon together
with a shopping bag, a blue coat,
and a patience only from cracked hands.
......
Who dares to be themselves in a cruel world?
Who wouldn’t dare?