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--- You should have seen my Mom’s face when she came home from the Christmas party. The kitchen counter was completely cleared off, every...
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I have written my own eulogy, to save people the trouble when I die. The problem is that I have to rewrite it every year or so to compe...
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To the ends of the earth Till the last man is dead Till our heroes are buried And our skies crimson red We will raise our last fl...
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An old man with a wrinkled face and large dark glasses sat reading the midday paper. He was late today, the sun had already set long ago, b...
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It was like a candle. One tiny light lost in a shadow of black forever long. Slowly, slowly, flickering away. Perhaps it was a star. One ...
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© Rebekah Tracy. Powered by Blogger.
Nice poem, but if you ask me,the stories are even better.
ReplyDeleteGood Luck...
This is great.
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