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From boyhood years, I still recall running through a worn back door but my joyous shouts, they shout no more as my sisters sleep in a graveyard fl..
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The yellow sunlight ~ bright and warmcrawled one morning on my bedroom floorwas sluggish as a sleeper stretching his formcreep~creep~creeping to the b..
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Before Writers Cafe, I wrote as Palewriter on a site called Booksie.An Ice Cream Poem was my first big hit as a amateur poet and it's still going stro..
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Those mighty trees that spread their armswere once as tall as you.And none have felt the sweeping strokesof what a saw could do.Yet underneath those s..
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In the yard, in the fogof a heavy downpourtwo toddlers wore rainlike tight-fitted jeanswhich clung to their clothesso soggy, and yet ~in moments of gl..
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Sitting outside the cafe the Autumn air felt warm. Tiny circles formed and disappearedin clear puddles from the light rain. Jazz played on speak..
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I had a huge crush on her.She had one too, but not for me. So we fell away from each other like leaves at season's end. That winter, there were flurri..
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3:20 AM -the same asall the other nights.Darkness and me -we still have nothingto say to each other.
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About aging
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Once in a whileas though pulled in by some desire,or force,some decide to take a ride backto Writers Cafe.It's not always a long visit, yet,they still..
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