He comes home to find Grandma, still –
sitting amidst the papers and magazines,
the dirtied grey furniture,
the crumbling walls and curtains stained
...
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Strong images and texture. I do however find this more of a confession than your previous poems which take us to another layer of thought. Perhaps though it's my fear talking!
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Strong images and texture. I do however find this more of a confession than your previous poems which take us to another layer of thought. Perhaps though it's my fear talking!