The Weeds By terimuso | May 25, 2015May 25, 2015 The weeds, like soldiers, retreat. Raw with battle scars, my hands reach for seeds. Share this: Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook Email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email Print (Opens in new window) Print More Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr Share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn Share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit Share on X (Opens in new window) X Like Loading...
terimuso: Poetry by Tammy Iralu 