Ten gun
Ten fold
Ten men, icy and cold
Millions of poppies
Millions of blood shed
Millions of soldiers, all dead
Eleven months
Eleven hours
All are silent, as we hold our flowers
YOU ARE READING
I am...
PoetryI am a lot of things and yet, I am not you, and I am not that woman you saw today sitting in the widow of a coffee shop, sipping her tea. I am also not what I write or who I write about. I am me though... I know this introduction is long and frankly...
