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Feeling

My Old Garden

These are photographs of my old garden where we used to live and of sunsets, photos I took, with my first phone/camera, while standing in my own backyard. I’ll still […]
My Old Garden

Last Rites, poem

There is always someone better, By margins, meters, measures, Someone younger, someone stronger, with more stamina, more hunger, Vocabulated education, or of better-bred relation, with some idea of etiquette and […]
Last Rites, poem

The Reaper

I am the soul of November, Wandering down through the days, Reclaiming the ground for the Winter, to be born again in the Spring, In nights that grow ever colder, […]
The Reaper