A Meal Fit Only for a King: A Child’s Tale
And they call us poor, Father, as if it were a curse.
And they call us poor, Father, as if it were a curse.
She stood unaccompanied in the room of hushed conversations and snide laughter.
My entry for this week’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday, hosted by Linda G. Hill.
The offspring of a two-god love
The new is always hiding in the old.
Like a mother’s lullaby in a foreign tongue