By Sister Lou Ella Hickman, I.W.B.S
touching the morning’s cold windowpane
she could see the tufts of spring
on her spindly rose bushes
among the small islands of snow
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“Why I write. Because I can.” – the poet
She Sighed
By Sister Lou Ella Hickman, I.W.B.S
touching the morning’s cold windowpane
she could see the tufts of spring
on her spindly rose bushes
among the small islands of snow
––––––––––
“Why I write. Because I can.” – the poet
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