Lola's Art Etc.
Reflections about art and samples of fiction, poetry and paintings.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Between the Lines
The lines on my face
trace the good times
and the bad,
like when my
mother died,
a stone replaced my heart and
my lips never turned up again
but the lines of my face,
especially around my eyes,
still miss her
when I look for her
and see she is gone.
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What Makes Her So Mean?
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The House Made of Plaster
Painted Memories
After The Rain
Sandy Turned Fifty-five
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