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October 21
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My Mother Gave Them To Me

The dusty pages sent to me, piled in a box
Remind me who I was then, not how I would be now.
Wrote about the gray, wind, rain, how chilled I was.
Feel soft cold air again, in letters to my future self.
I didn’t know how long I’d stay.

My Mother Gave Them To Me

The dusty pages sent to me, piled in a box
Remind me who I was then, not how I would be now.
Wrote about the gray, wind, rain, how chilled I was.
Feel soft cold air again, in letters to my future self.
I didn’t know how long I’d stay.

Deborah Caplow, 64

Seattle

 
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