For her looking back over such a short life, and for myself, though I’ve wished it, we never could have crossed paths, as Plath died 17 days before I was born, from the Faber and Faber first edition of Winter Trees.
from Mystic / by Sylvia Plath
The children leap in their cots.
The sun blooms, it is a geranium.
The heart has not stopped.
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from lined paper, to Royal, to Smith Corona, to floppy disk, to 1TB hard drive...it's all a result of the passing wind.
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Daily Poetry Fragments {Semi-Daily} 