{34}

REMEMBRANCE (To M. O.)

An infant memory,

A tiny fragile thing,

Called into being

By the brush of a colored wing

Across the canvas

Of my tired mind.

It grows,

A lovely picture of the past

I find,

You! Grown to fullest stature

Of the perfect soul,

The tiny sheltered memory

Has reached at last

Its goal.

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{36}

THREE GENERATIONS OF KISSES (To M. K.)

A Mother’s kisses

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