Two Poems
When my hand couldn’t reach the bell,
I used to knock on the door.
Now my hand can reach the bell—
but there’s no door left to knock on.
I look back:
When my hand couldn’t reach the bell,
I used to knock on the door.
Now my hand can reach the bell—
but there’s no door left to knock on.
I look back:
“Each face showed a different type of emotion. One prayed. Another begged. Yet another cried. The next
showed bitterness. The fifth had a smile tinged with pain.”
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