OPTIONAL POETRY

I guess it’s too late to live on a farm. As if I could buy a house! Let alone land. A place of my own– is what my friend sighed, our someday dream, our loftiest goal. Today again I paid to learn, watching refugees sit and wait for their bus, and asked the doctor what the term really means– she couldn’t say exact qualifications, just that for some recognized reason, a person had to leave […]