The Prodigal
The Prodigal First, though not foremost, they didn’t understand my passion for the antique:...
Read MorePosted by williampage | | Letters to Humanity, Poetry
The Prodigal First, though not foremost, they didn’t understand my passion for the antique:...
Read MorePosted by williampage | | Lryics, Poetry
Little Lovers Two sparrows built their nest in my thoughts last spring. Little lovers, I...
Read MorePosted by williampage | | Lryics, Poetry
The First Day of Spring To some the first day of spring was cruel in its remembrance...
Read MorePosted by williampage | | Lryics, Poetry
August Moon You sat with your legs apart, fanning yourself; on your face beads of sweat...
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