Barbara Pease
Dilemma Rain slides down my window pane, fine drops clinging. I hear a song's end, delicate memory fading, haunting, gliding in the evening light. I saw few, then not knowing -- fine suitors all -- several intended men.
Rain slides down my window pane, fine drops clinging. I hear a song's end, delicate memory fading, haunting, gliding in the evening light. I saw few, then not knowing -- fine suitors all -- several intended men.
