Tuesday, March 12, 2024

RICHARDS WILD IRISH ROSE By Larry Houston


oh mothers 

when he was born,

crying, 

slippery with birth

warm on your chest 

feeling your heartbeat

did you think he would grow up

to stand on a corner

in dirty clothes

reeking of Richards

at 9 in the morning?




I am most happy when trying to create something of interest when writing. I started writing in my 50’s and have a few pieces published in Medusa’s Kitchen.

 

 


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