Sympathy without Boundariesfor my wife on mother's day, 2003 May 11, 2003 Clasping hands, smelling the honeysuckle on a country road, admiring a tree magnificently gnarled, I'm with my friend. She's quick to cry; sympathy without boundaries, and generous passion, Her soul belongs to beauty. She's a mother. Four children; a husband; cats, and a dog; Messes multitudinous. She laughs in spite of it all. She's our mother. We love her.
(Comments are moderated and must be approved.) “The Epiphany of Zebediah Clump”
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