It was true then,
And it's true now,
Without friend,
Without affection,
...
Read full text
Without friend, without affection, poetry becomes compromised, when tears become diluted the salt in them, we are not the sort that runs and hides for our passion of the pen is life, and the growing pains give depth to our poetry, I enjoyed this poem Sandra...as usual, you always deliver! : -)
Without friend and without affection life becomes hopeless. Wonderfully inscribed. Beautiful poem. Thanks for sharing... A10