On the Bridge

Sometimes things don’t knit together

But you’re still standing there dear brother, waving or crossing the bridge

What does it mean?

Its significance not lost on me just ignored

I love you

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I scribble, I dabble, I call it art!

Random Reviews and Ramblings from Redcliffe

Poet / Performer / Workshop Coordinator

More beautiful than the honey locust tree are the words of the Lord - Mary Oliver

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