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Misfit

I am a misfit. There is no place to call my home.
Wandering the world, on my own.
Alone but not lonely,
Because like the snail, I carry my home on my back.
The post cards from my travels
are written to me.

Misfit

I am a misfit. There is no place to call my home.
Wandering the world, on my own.
Alone but not lonely,
Because like the snail, I carry my home on my back.
The post cards from my travels
are written to me.

Cheryl Nelson, 61

Seattle

 
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POET OF THE WEEK

Victoria Rolph

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