All dark, not a beam of light
Old and weak, beautiful grey hair
She crawled her feet
With faith and care
...
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I used to wonder as a young girl what a blind person saw when they would dream. For many years I kept thinking about that, hoping in their dreams there was glorious beauty, if not of sight, at least with all the other senses the heart knows. Your poem reminded m of that....and I still have not the answer....PEACE
I used to wonder as a young girl what a blind person saw when they would dream. For many years I kept thinking about that, hoping in their dreams there was glorious beauty, if not of sight, at least with all the other senses the heart knows. Your poem reminded m of that....and I still have not the answer....PEACE