I can’t count the times my momma
Tsk-tsked it,
And I know that sky-haired hawk, to this very day,
Would tempt of empty talk that I’d all
But missed it;
Had I’ve been a luckless fool, she might’ve sold her say,
Yet my heart’s somehow saved my life more than
It’s risked it.
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Poetry: Grammy
https://windstrewn.com/2018/09/19/grandmother/
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