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The rustling of a wild-bird's wings,
A star, a flower, a gush of rain,
The sight of sad or joyous things,
Oft makes me seem a child again:
With voiceless eloquence they come,
Bright phantoms of my childhood's home.
~ Rosa Vertner Jeffrey "My Childhood's Home"
© 2025 by Anitta Vuorisola. All rights reserved.
| comment | |
| Julie Oldfield | 17-Jul-2015 02:57 | |