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Ted Scheck Jan 2014
She visited my house, home
Wife, Boys:
Soaking up what little she could of Little Brother’s life;
And I hugged her, I put my arms around her frailty,
My big sister, now tiny and ravaged by the word
That shouldn’t rhyme with
Dancer, but
Does.

Here in her last September, last
September.
A
Final tour of her
Favorite Places, a
Preacher’s Mountain.
And looking into her
Eyes kind and squinty,
I had the feeling that
One hand held the
Times I would see her.
I was off by two,
minus the thumb.

Forward-fast to Dec.
27th, my Niece’s Wedding
I held her again, and
She was more frail
And unsteady and her
Eyes rimmed red with
Spreading Pain;
The rain relentlessly
Hammering on the roof of the
Membrane-thin
Quonset Hut-Shell.

Walking unsteadily steady back
To her Dear Friend’s car
My heart in tatters, sad, yet
Glad for her to visit that
Distant Shore
That her eyes so longed for.

And now, in this frozen January of
2014
Wintry-Mixed Nut Group
(That is my family)
I enter her ineptly-named
Living room, where she is
Laid prostrate before God
And everybody.
And I enter into such a blender of
Sweet-sour-bitter-salty
Emotional juices.

I take her hand
And kiss her cheek, and an
Eye perks up at the sight of
Little Brother.
Yet that eye is tired of
The uphill worn treadmill that
Life has turned into.

(Please God take her away
With You. Deliver my
Sister Amy
From the planet’s
Gravi-pain-tiful
Pull)
And that prayer flew out of
Me driving back to Indy
Sunday at about 2:00 pm
Central Time.

And at 11:30 pm UGT
(Universal God Time)
An Angel wakes a
Slumbering Saint.

And Amy Scheck closes her
Eye on this world
(And opens the eyes of her
SPIRIT
To the
Next)

(And we are in the presence
Of God’s Messengers,
That Warrior Race of
Angel Guardians).

He is of a height much,
Much greater than her
Small yet intensely curious
Form.

He has mysterious and utterly fabulous
Wings tucked and tightly-sprung
Beneath impossibly-broad
Shoulders; his sword
Gleams like a hundred
Suns glistening on the dew of
A thousand worlds.
Radiant! Radiant and
Mighty is he!
And he is here
For her.

A voice of velvet thunder, low
Mixed with music and fury.
“Rise, Little One.
Child of God!
Rise, and grab hold
Of my tunic!
It’s time to enter
Into the Throne Room of
The Most High!”

And, forgive me for imagining
(What cannot be imagined, but
Longed for, yes. Longed for
By countless numbers).
I write in faith, hope, and
Love for my dearly-
Departed sister.
I use the tool
God gave me
Before I was born.

I imagine the transition
Of death to life
Of life from death.

A unimaginably-large soul
Trapped in a dead husk of
A Mortal Shell
Winds down like the biological
Clocks we resemble; metering,
Measuring heart beats of time,
Of counted breaths breathing
No longer. Of pain, and suffering,
And the emotions swirling off both
Like streamers moved by the wind.

Amy Winifed Scheck
Dies. She breathes in/not out, or
Opposite so.
Her heart goes
Blub/Dub
And then stops
Forever.

But something amazing begins to happen.
In her soul is a key.

This key has a name unknown to us.
That name defines the soul of
Her New Existence.
To me - to us - it is...
UNSPEAKABLE.

The fleshy fleshly tongues
Are as worthy as uttering it
As slugs are equipped to hit
102-mph fastballs.

It’s her soulprint, though it does
Not belong to her;
It’s the print from the Soul
Of Jesus Himself.
HIS mark. HIS claim.
HIS.
It is the manifestation of
Amy’s Name
(Written in the Book of Life).
There can be no better assurance
Than to know, without that
Demon of Uncertainty, known as
(Doubt?)
That YOU are in THAT BOOK!
Are you?

So Amy’s soul is
Delivered, birthed, taken-
TRANSFORMED and
Enters the Waiting Room
Of Heaven.
Holy, Holy, Holy...

Feathers weigh millions of
Tons compared to the
Lightness of Being
Amy feels as, nearly
Transparent, she is a more
Solid creature than the largest
Pod of Blue Whales ever to
Swim and sing.

Her Angel takes Amy
To the Throne Room.
Falls prostrate for a moment,
Amy sees a burly tree
Fall, then, instantly,
Stand; the tree rumbles words.
“I have done my duty,
Precious Little One, as
Your Angel Guardian.”
He bows his head,
And then is on one knee,
So that his great shaggy head
Is nearly level with his
Little Charge.

His voice is surprisingly gentle, for
Before Amy was created:
This supernatural being was
Assigned this precious little bundle
Of joyful humanity, and he fought:
Fought! Fought the great battles
Against the ravages of the earthly
Realm; the seizures, the sickness, the
Angel Guardian was inside the baby's
Heart as it struggled to do its job, to
Deliver the blood to the extremities, to
Live, to grow, to fight, fight!
This one, in a little over half a
Century, became close to Jesus,
And, by proxy, close to the Being
Who created Angels!
Man! Woman! Child!
Did she not have the heart of a
Lion?
Did she take on the Spirit
Of a prayer Warrior?
Yes. Indeed she did.

Heaven's tears are thick, syrupy. Alive
With the Immense Sadness and
Immeasurable Joy of Christ Jesus.
They flow slowly down the shaggy
Angel's scarred face. God only
Knows how close this Angel was/
Is to Amy.

His voice is choked with emotion.
“It was my pleasure to serve and protect you,
Amy Winifred Scheck.
You must Wait."
He wipes tears from his eyes,
Knowing he has done his job,
HIS job, protecting, serving,
Ministering to this Little One,
As he soon will Minister to
The next Little One.
"You must wait. Wait upon the Lord
You heard His Call
In your life on Earth."

The Angel looks gravely
At the tiny, frightened
(Yet terribly excited)
Little Child of God.
And does something rare,
Even for the Guardians.
He spreads massively-wide arms and
Draws the trembling
Child into his protective embrace.
Her small hands grasp mountains
Masquerading as shoulders,
Hugging the Being with surprising
Might.
And Amy does quite an amazing
Thing. She senses her Angel's
Distress, and gently, lovingly,
Pats his shaggy beard, his cheek,
Praying! For the Messenger and
Deliverer!
Her little form squeezes strength
(Love)
Into her own Angel Guardian.
And Jesus, Everywhere,
Smiles and wipes tears of His own
From his face.

The Angel speaks in a
Whisper as gentle as a soft hush of
A breeze after the first
Spring shower.
“You will hear His Call
Again.”
And the Angel does not
Vanish comically in a puff
Of cloud; it is as if he
Fades away into the
Multitude of the
Heavenly Fold.

Seraphim, and Cherubim,
And fantastical wing’d and claw’d creatures
Amy has only dimly dreamed about,
Sing, and shout with sound-ful colors that
Could never exist on earth, for
They would melt the bonds
Of reality itself
And drive mad all the ears and eyes
Which suffered to sense it.

Off in the strange
Far-close distance
One Figure Stands
Above, Most High Above Every Thing
He created:
The Most High
Being Who Was Ever,
Is, Will Be,
And Is To Be.
It is Him

Jesus Christ
(And the people of earth,
Myself included, sing, sing! SING!
Blessed is the Name of the Lord!)

“My Child, Precious child,
Enter the Holy Throne of God.”
And in steps that cannot be
Measured by any earthly
Standard, Amy Winifred Scheck
Enters Her Savior’s Throne Room.

With her new feet, Amy
Walks bravely, surely, securely,
Eyes low, her countenance recognizable
To the One Whom it resembles;
And:
All around her is a Living
Chorus of Beings shouting
Holy! Holy! Holy is The Lord!”
Yet within the cacophony resides
The Still and Quiet Presence
Of The Lord of Lords.
The Prince of Peace.
Upon His Throne, He sits,
Waiting and Being
Waited Upon.
Worshiped.
As only God should be.
It is Through Him - Jesus Christ -
That Amy enters into the Kingdom of God,
The Presence of the King of Kings.

Amy speaks, using a voice that she never dreamed
She had with her long-gone forgotten
Vocal chords.
“Here I am, Oh Lord.
Oh Lord, I am Here!”
Her life is Measured
Judged.
Because JUDGMENT
IS HIS!

Of:
The Judgment Seat
Of Christ:
I will not insult
My Creator
By imagining the content
Of my sister’s
Heart,
Or what goes on there,
In the most important moment in the history of a human being.
I will experience it;
So shall you, Dear One,
Who reads and contemplates the meaning
Within these words.
(ALL will experience
The very same thing)
So, human beings, get
Your affairs in order, for
We know not the hour
Of our demise.
If there is any doubt about what
Happens to you when you die...
Seek Him!
Accept Jesus Christ as your
Personal Lord and Savior!

Amy Scheck
Loved Jesus, and spoke His Name
With a rare form of deep and wide
Conviction.
She was a Christian, a Child of God.
She had a smile for everyone,
And most everyone left her
Smiling.
She loved Jesus on earth.
She was an obedient servant.
And what do we take with us
To Heaven?
What is in our HEART.

Jesus loves us all, all of us.
So I will believe,
Believe, I will, that
Amy’s love for Her Savior,
And her acknowledge, public,
Amidst scorn, ridicule, love, and
Acceptance
Were the Words
That Jesus used
To write
Amy's Name in His Book
She sowed and reaped, and
Reaped and sowed, and led
Others away from sin,
And, more importantly,
To Jesus Himself.
Amy’s life was full of
Good Fruit from
The Vine.

Interlude: The Other Side of Grace
And Jesus Christ spoke to Satan,
Who said, of this new soul:
(As he says to EVERY single
New soul entering into God’s
Eternal Kingdom):
Because, you see, we are fallen...

“What of THIS one, Lord?
She is MINE, I should think!
I have a long list of her
Considerable
Sins.”

And His voice the Thunder of Heaven,
Jesus stands for Amy Winifred Scheck.
(As Amy counted times stood for Jesus)
Her love for Him in no way can equal
HIS love for HER, but that is the great
Sacrifice that Jesus took upon Himself
On the Cross-the staggering weight of
Humanity's sin.
The equation does not have to be
Equal to be right, and true, and real.

So now Jesus raises His voice, and
Speaks, and the Foundations
Of Eternity shake, and every One
Within Heaven’s Realm
Trembles at Glory
Personified in Voice,
At Love, walking upright.
“CAST YOUR GAZE AWAY FROM HER, SATAN!
GET THEE BEHIND ME!
THIS ONE BELONGS TO ME.”
And Satan slinks away, knowing,
Knowing the answer already,
Yet eagerly awaiting one of
His
Coming to him soon, soon...
Soon.
Satan is, if anything,
Patient.

“You are Amy Winifred Scheck,
Born to Ed and Mary Scheck on
January 11 of the year
1960! Your body died
January 27, 2014.”

Amy is simply in the State of
Eternal Awe.
Jesus. Is speaking. To her.
Her new tongue must not be
Functioning properly.

“Well done, good and faithful Servant!
You have been faithful with what
I bestowed upon you! I gave
You a seed, which you
Planted in good soil, and
Tended it; watered it; pruned it
So that it
Multiplied many, many times over!
The Fruit of your life resides
All around you!
You led many who were
Astray to My Kingdom!
Enter!”

“OH! MY JESUS!”
She exclaims, her voice
Accompanied by the blasts
Of trumpets and a chorus
Of Angels.

Amy runs with joy as her feet and
Hugs the shoulders
Of The Almighty, feels
Scarred hands cupping her
Tiny face, as eyes blazing
Brighter than a thousand
Stars gaze into hers.
Everything that ever mattered,
That matters now, that will
Matter on down mortality’s
Road
Resides in the Sweet, Lovely
Kind eyes of Our Savior,
Jesus Christ.
He speaks:
“I’ve a place prepared for
You, Dear One.
For there are many rooms
For the Names in the Book of Life!
I have great
Adventures planned for you!
Eternity awaits! Does your new
Spirit thirst? Are you ready for
Your celebratory banquet?”

Amy can only cry and weep and sob
With joy so pure she will have
To learn an entirely new
Vocabulary to give it substance, depth, and
Clarity.
She looks around, seemingly,
For the first time, and sees the
Familiar form of Mary Elizabeth,
Her earth mother, now
Transformed, as she herself has been
Transformed.
Amy sees her new form in
The form of her loving mother.
They embrace, Mother and
Child.
And the applause of Heaven
Is Sweet Thunder.

Amy’s earthly father,
Edward James, is there,
Joking and smiling
With his older brother
Michael and his wife,
Tess.
He sees his daughter,
And shouts with Joy.
More embraces.
Heaven is a place of
Embraces, the birth
Place of Joy itself.

“WELCOME, TO HEAVEN’S TABLE,”
And Jesus speaks Amy’s new name.
“LET US REJOICE, MY FRIENDS,
FOR AMY IS NOW,
FINALLY,
HOME.”
madison May 2014
you and i both get judged
because of our bodies, laughs, faces

but we also get told that we are beautiful
by ones we like/love

many people say things they dont mean
not knowing it could affect you terribly

they continue to do what they do
all i can say is be you

because you are
be-you-tiful
Daisy Fields May 2011
there are in my opinion 2 differet types of doors of perception in the human mind.
the doors to darkness & the doors to light.
the doors to light have always been in everyone,
but the doors to darkness were built in our minds to confuse & control us.

everytime a door of perception closes a new one will open in it's place.
& i find that for every dark door you close 2 or more doors to light open.

when you shut the door to government the doors to real freedom, real privacy, & real truth opens.
how can we really feel free in the relaity we are in now?
we all have a false sense of freedom, to think, speak, & act,
but really nothing is free anymore, everything will cost you something.
how can you truley believe we are free when there are so many laws, rules, and confinments & so much we have no say in.
human's don't need laws or bibles or police to tell us what to do,
we have the sense of right & wrong built into us.
we know what is good or bad by how they make us feel,
and we all generally feel in the same ways.
with laws in place we don't take the time to really think about how our actions will make others feel we have alredy been told & there is no need for further thought.
also, people i find always have the tendacy to want to do what they can't do.
if you tell them they can't do things, they're gonna try.
so are jails filled with bad people, or freedom fighters?
people rebeling against the law.
we are living in a dark reality.

let in the light.

when you close the door to media you open the doors to true beauty, to inner beauty, to self love & to self acceptance.
how can one see real beauty in such a fake reality.
in people today judgement, cliques & suicides are at an all time high,
self confidence & self worth is at an all time low .
people judge people based on how they look, & what they're wearing.
they form opions of others without even talking to them.
we should love & celebrate our differences, not hate & divide them.
you could miss out on meeting an amazing person because you are so blind to real beauty.
think about all the things great things people don't know about you,
now think about all the great things you don't know about other people.
we are living in a dark reality.

let in the light.

when you close the door to technology, you open the doors to unity, to true connection with others, & to real experiences.
in our technological relaity we live in the illusion that technology is bringing us closer,
and that we are becomming more inter webbed to eachother when we humans have the capabilites to establish these connections without help.
we are like robots, expressing emotions based on how we are told/suppose to react, not because we are really feeling.
instead of going out to explore & expierence life, nature, & new relationships,we stay at home and watch them on t.v.
instead of talking to someone, visiting someone, spending time wth someone, we connect with them threw computer screens, facebook profiles & emotionless txts.
where is the connection?
we are living in a dark reality.

let in the light.

when you close the door to money the door to free trade open.
to a reality where we help other not for money or for benifit
just to help another human bening like yourself,
just because it feels right, it feels good.
the reality we live in now is one with fake, bought happiness & of selfishness.
we try to make ourselves happy with big homes and nice cars and expensive things when we don't need them.
true, pure happiness comes from the love of others, from helping, giving, sharing,
& from making others happy as well.
nobody can take that kind of happiness from you ever.
we are living in a dark reality.

let in the light.

when you shut the door to war & violence the doors to peace opens.
the door to equality, to harmony to love.
to a reality where we work out our differences with words & not wepons,
it doesn't require money, or casual deaths.
how can we use the term casual deaths?
let's take a look into this relaity for a moment...
there was a solider in iraq who ran into a home & killed a man in front of his wife & kids.
this man was killed because he had weapons in his home which was viewed as a threat or possible terrorist.
in actuallity the man was not planning any attack at all he merely had thoes weapon to protect himself & his innocent family in the case of a home invasion.
back in the soliders home town a man wakes up in the middle of the night because he hears glass break. he grabs a wepon that he has in case of emergency to protect his family and goes to investigate. he walks in on a man intruding in his home, the man has a knife, the dad shoots him dead.
on the same day as the solider get his medal for killing an innocent man the dad gets sentenced to life in prision for trying to protect his family.
who is the real hero, who really deserves a medal, the solider or the man?
i guess ****** is a heroic thing if your doing it for the government..
we are living in a dark reality.

let in the light.

when you close the door to religion you open the door to wonder, curiosity, and exploration.
to a relaity with less division & less disagreements.
where does all that money go to?
certinly not space exploration.
i strongly believe that by giving into the idea of god you giving into the idea of there being a higher power in anything race, gender, religion, ect.
i also believe that because of this and the idea of god it has created this huge power struggle all over the world of people trying to own/run the world.
people trying to be god/godly.
these are the most powerful people in the world right now.
and it is thoes people who have place these dark doors in our heads.
and who are constantly watching, and making sure the doors stayed open and all other doors stayed shut.
but we have the power to.
we are all god.
& we all have the power to view the world in any way we want it, heavenly or hellish
.'god created the world with his vision'
change god into we,
'we created the world with our vision.'
'god has the power to change everything'
'WE have the power to change everything'
but as of right now we are living in the dark.

so let's let in the light.
& let it shine threw every pore, every breath, every thought we have.
let it ignite us, & drive us to great heights.

don't live & act based on how you look to others/god/ect.
live & act based on how your feel inside.

don't have an idea of who you are,
know who you are.
live for yourself, not for anyone els.

i want real words & thoughts
i want real freedom & truth
i want real faces & emotion
i want real experiences & places
i want real peace & equality
i want real people
i want real happiness
i want real connections
real love, real light, real laughter, real life.

we can make things real again, just don't be afraid, don't be lazy, don't be doubtful, don't be fake.
be-you-tiful.
Lena Waters Aug 2015
SometimesIlookoutofthewindow
And                  Iwo            ­   nder
Ifwe                  eve               ndes
Erve                  this               beau
tiful                   pla                netw
Edidnothingtoearn,andtrytolooka
Tev      ­             ery                thing
Alit                   tleb               itdiffe
Ren                   tlyt               hanI'd
Bee                   nta                 ught
AllmylifeonthiswonderfuloldEarth
For wolf spirit. Hope you enjoy it!
Jennifer Cheung May 2010
If I could...
I would have the

long
looong
looooong

s
k
i
n
n
y

legs of a model,

A TINY

   tiny

     t

   iny

WAIST,

beautiful hands

(to wear those byooooootiful RINGS),

and flowy, wavvvvvy locks.

I could wear any sunglasses I wanted

(not just the ones with nose pads)

And still look modest in shorts.

I could be a bit taller,

taller than this

FIVE

FOOT

FRAME

and still look good

in peeptoe

l o
u  bo
u    ti
n     sssss.

I would have glowing

smoooooooooooth skin.

BUT

Despite

wishingwishingwishing

for the perfect body

I still love my

palm-sized lumps,

my blemished spotted uneven skin,

my thick thighs,

and my ugly hands.

At least I can wear high heels

to make me

TALLER.
Written May 9th, 2010
v V v Aug 2012
There   i s
beau tiful
trans-par-
e ncy    in
o u r   un-
s  po ke n
w o r d  s,
no embellished perfection, rather simple contented silence, a deriv-
ative  of  unhappy  places  where spoken words were  once  severing
w e a p o n s,
  a n d  a n y 
  h o p e  o f  
recon- cili-
a t i o n   a
a  c r u c i-
f i x  beam
stret- ched
a   c r o s s
our  backs,
the weight
o f  w h a t
n  e  a r l y
killed    us.
Recently published at The Mind(less) Muse, March 2013
Raj Arumugam May 2014
my wife’s always late
so I wailed: “Hurry up, dear
or it'll be light...
You know, the early ghost
catches the faint-hearted”


“Hang on,” she howled
(I’d died on the rope, you see)
“just my finishing touches
with my mas-scare
and a bit more of my scare spray”

and then she floated out
into the dying room
(we don’t have living rooms, you understand)
looking just *boo-tiful
2nd poem in a series of poems about ghosts, spirits, ghouls and such...
You
Behind you are only the lessons learned,
ad
Here** in the now.
Idolize who You have Become.
Only you can be the Youniverse
you wish to be.

Be Younique be-You-tiful
and never let meaningles Theys
Dictate your days.
John F McCullagh Nov 2014
Most days of the year a visit here
would involve a rinse blow and trim,
but on Halloween it’s a whole different scene
As the Queens of the night wander in.
Our regular staff has this day off-
It helps keep their heads in the zone.
To help “Jason” and “Freddie” get themselves ready
We’ve beauticians from good funeral homes,
If you wish to appear as a zombie or Ghoul
These girls will help get your “Freak “on
By the time you stagger up out of your chair
You’ll look like you’re long dead and gone.
With a wicked gleam they will paint your *** green-
You may fear it won’t ever come off.
Some bolts on your neck and, oh what the heck,
You can tell folks you’re Boris Karloff.
If a ghost is your quest you will be most impressed
You will look just like Lizzie the Queen
It’s quite the parade as they head out our door
To march in the West village scene.
“You look Boo-tiful dears”, I say to all here
As we all celebrate Halloween.



    x
Based on a Greenwich Village Beauty parlor that offers professional make up for ghouls zombies and the occasional goblin each Halloween
Fearless Mar 2019
Heartbroken                                                      ­                     souls spinning
such beau                                                             ­                -tiful webs
drawing in oth                        \|/                      ers of a like nature
a zest for life             even when            all is crumbling
like the stat              ues in the              ancient cities
cracks in the             thick              exterior shell
pouring forth           creati      -vity as the heart
oozes out of    the body    for all to see
its light undulating
with a dying
life a shell
intact does
not let beauty
escape but from
the depths of the  
decaying a new
life
bursts
forth
towards
perfection
glittering   down  to    
  rest on        all it      touches
the          shat-         tered
rising         from            the
ashes
Josh shuman Oct 2011
I only I could you say words beau





                                                                  Tiful scrunched up nose and face
                                                                                I think about daily
Jay Nov 2014
Your soul
A place all your own
But meets light at opening of
Your beautiful brown eyes that only
Can be stared into for moments
At a time for the beauty
within is blinding
Lady Bird Sep 2018
a powerful
radiant soul
a promising positive
treasured heartbeat
a thrilling pleasure
indulging in beauty
you are…Be(you)tiful
I Was Given This Prompt: Be(you)tiful
KB47 Nov 2015
Come as you are
So that i can know you for who you truly are

Show me all your flaws
Girl there's beauty in the scars

We are all but human
So your value ain't determined by another man

So just be you and it will turn out be-you-tiful
Then you'll realize nothing's more lovier than you
11:22, what a beau-tiful,
aesthetically, number!
On this evening- though,
it does, truly, prevoke
this mind to believe that it's time-
for a potent bowl of cannabis
& a very restful slumber.
February 9th, 2016
trisha Jul 2019
you dont need make up to feel beautiful.
you dont need to wear frills and puffy dresses or skirts over length or high top blouses to be beautiful.
you dont have to always take care of your skin to feel beautiful.
you dont have to be feminine to be beautiful.
you don't have to be her to be beautiful.
be you.
be-you-tiful.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS Apr 2020
A few years ago, I was in junior high. Or at least it seems that
way. Then the next thing I knew, I just graduated from
college. Is that possible, to let time play games with you, and
the games seem like reality? Then I just watched Mariel Hem-
ingway in Woody Allen's "Manhattan." It seems like a few
weeks ago. I had a crush on her. In the movie, she is only 17.
Now she's 63. What the hell happened? What's going on? I
don't get it. I have dreams that are timeless, memories of beau-
tiful women I dated over a lifetime. I feel exactly how I felt
50 years ago. I remember exactly how each one smelled. A-
mazing! I remember reading in Spanish Jorge Luis Borges'
books. But life is an endless stream of recollections, or should
I say reinactments. Each night as I sleep, I make love with
Sharon, or maybe Linda, perhaps Nancy. Ah, Nancy, the
most beautiful girl in Topeka when we were both teenagers!
But after she was divorced, Nancy and I started dating and
making love. Ah, the plenitude, the pulchritude! And now I
watch movies. I'm not old, the movies are old, or so it seems.
Cinder was my first dog, my best friend growing up. There
were no leash laws in the '50s, so when my best human friend,
Bruce, and I were in grade school, we would ride our bikes all
the way downtown with Cinder keeping up with us all the way.
Could that have been 65 years ago/ Really? Are you sure?
I'm not.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks
A graduate of Andover and Columbia College, Columbia University, Tod Howard Hawks has been a poet and human-rights advocate his entire adult life. He recently finished his novel, A CHILD FOR AMARANTH.

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