If you don’t know why I am doing this see Sunday’s blog post and then join me.
There are no answers
Except the ones already here
Rain drapes them like a haphazard cloak
Packed away with the winter woolens and forgotten like Mama’s ring and the China doll from before the war
Somewhere between the peonies and the irises, they bloom unseen
Lost like tomorrow’s yesterday
Dots in my history where stories should have taken root and grown.