By: Ardis E. Parshall - August 31, 2017 To a Child Dorothy J. Roberts Scars: now the brown dirt road windsOnly in remembrance, and far away —The horse my father drove and I beside him,The crystal atmosphere, the liquid layOf meadow larks, and farther westThe curlew’s poignant cry –All are severed veins of time … Child, ringed by sidewalks, neat and dry,And formal lawn, meadowless the young yearsPass for you. Woodless you walk,Not...
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