The roots are brown ; wisdom knows no “early” nor “late”

She was in a year of limbo Nothing, not much at all Except musing and remusing The failures of yesteryears The wounds she could not forget Somebody, somebody, everybody advices her Do this, do that The worst part was that She was not listening to only one person’s advice: Hers Then the year of theContinue reading “The roots are brown ; wisdom knows no “early” nor “late””