Letter to the Editor

I heard the front door close

…opened it to look out

….and saw footprints in the sand

leaves surrounding there about.

This often happens

Soon after we disagree.

Now we can’t make up,

Or make a crying plea.

Like stones on the ground

That are not moved by wind or water

Remaining in their place

As each one oughta.

The door will open again

And someone will walk through

But there won’t be time for greetings

And words will be few.

As leaves fall from the tree

After it has borne all the fruit it could…

…it’s the way we leave each other

with circumstances misunderstood.

…..Leaves and comes back!

Leaves in a pile, in a stack………

Mary Brown

Paris

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