My family tree is not that of a sycamore;
Strong and tall and everlasting
We are more like the one that struggled in our front yard,
It perished before it grew any leaves,
Only a few bare limbs is what was left for me.
YOU ARE READING
Sunset Over Pointe Inn
PoetryLove once stopped me from writing this book, and I hope that whoever is reading this someday finds the kind of love that inspired me to finish it.
