Daily Archive: April 11, 2024

We are born to die, we are born to live…

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A voyage…

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My wild Texas rose…

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Drink of me, dear lover…

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Toxic…

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My whiskey…

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The hanging tree…

(April, poetry month number eleven.. Sometimes. We cannot win, sometimes. We are not allowed to know kindness. The gift of love had forgotten us. Or maybe we have forgotten love?) The hanging tree…… Continue reading

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I need more barefoot days. April, poetry month number ten.

I need more barefoot days… I want to remember a beautiful Summer day, I want to remember a sweet woman face, I want to remember a kind woman voice. I do remember her… Continue reading

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The song of love…

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Dirty little secrets part one…

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