Michelle Moore1 min readWhat stays.Your wordswash in my headlike the tide.They come inThey go out,Some settleon the banks of my memorylike heavy shells.I later pick them upand collect them.They say,I wear them well.
Your wordswash in my headlike the tide.They come inThey go out,Some settleon the banks of my memorylike heavy shells.I later pick them upand collect them.They say,I wear them well.