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Shrinking Violet
Poems
Mar 2015
Hands
Unfurl your hands to me, Grandmama.
Your hands are browned and gnarled,
yet textured by age
as pressed flower petals.
O tell me the story of a soul:
As mysterious and delicate
as the heart of a rose,
And yet as always,
as strong as oak.
Written by
Shrinking Violet
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