"Express it in Eight" Poems written mostly for me, for fun and for anyone who drops by. |
| Far From Home In a kitchen drawer, I remember hanks of blonde ringlets. A mass of curls tied with a ribbon, My childhood in a brown paper bag. If I could walk back into that house, It wouldn’t be the new paint and paper, It would be that empty kitchen drawer, That would tell me it was no longer my home. |