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Jan 2017
The woman with the suitcase walks past bowlegged, She bounces as her violet scarf shuffles around the base of her neck
A mother, I know, Just by the way she holds her coffee with such elegance making sure not a single drop falls onto her non-manicured fingers worn from washing crayon off walls. She walks forward with no worries of whats behind her, a mask to the world but its all too real for her.
We call her Monday.
Shianne Michelle
Written by
Shianne Michelle
430
   Debbie Taylor
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