Edmund V. Strolis


Biography of Edmund V. Strolis

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The Yellow Cup

Her tiny hands held the mug, fingers traced each crack and scrape.
Twas rare to find it out of sight for two moments in a day.

Worn was the handle, near vanished the rose, a mere hint of pink inlaid.
but the cup of yellow still held its' brilliance, as if by angels made.

Was it true the story of a mother lost and the depth of her dear sorrow?
Empty cup waiting for a yesterday, yet too full to hold tomorrow.

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