|
Sunday, February 27, 2005
Tonight's poem is in memory of R.W. Ayers, my grandfather, who could be counted on to know these lines even when he did not remember where he'd put his wallet, if it was with his car keys and, for that matter, where he'd parked the car. Love to stumble across them now and again, just to recapture the voice.
posted by gbarto at 9:48 PM
| 
