Story Time

August 9, 2010
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The light from the window
Streams onto the big white couch
Like a ray of sunlight through a cloud
My Madeline book with its frayed edges and soft yellow cover
Dances on the tiptoes of its corners
One corner on my leg, one on my mother’s
As the simple and familiar melody of her voice
Weaves a thread of France between us on the couch
The wind carries the scent of freshly mown lawn through the window
And I close my eyes to listen to
Story time





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