Home
Beth Powning
I feel the summer rushing towards me, falling away behind.
I want to gather it, to hold onto it,
but it sweeps past as steadily as my child’ childhood,
my parents’ youth.
Home
Beth Powning
I feel the summer rushing towards me, falling away behind.
I want to gather it, to hold onto it,
but it sweeps past as steadily as my child’ childhood,
my parents’ youth.