'Violet Comes Off Of The Trees, ' - Poem by Romella Kitchens
It is the sun, naked and new.
There birth beside child in life.
There are cradles of condition.
Each woman sensing different hues,
laying fetal in their sorrows from
laying joyous and natal in their re-births
Comments about 'Violet Comes Off Of The Trees, ' by Romella Kitchens
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You