Sheet Music Poem by James Mills
Sheet Music
Arms blood red
in water warm as she could stand
she'd steep the sheets;
brown curls flopping like springs
over her eyes.
I'd help her wring.
We wrung until the sheets squeaked
and closed the distance between us.
Maybe she'd sing a song
her mother had sung to her.
And still those old notes ring sometimes,
closing the distance between us.
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5/10/2024 12:10:18 PM # 1.0.0.1119
