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I use to plant hard to grow plants b/c I was proving myself to myself when I was younger, now I am older and I want nothing but color. And smell; flowers as big as dinner plates and night flowers with blooms like moons.
Do you understand there are a hundred different ways to die in a garden?
I am quoting myself. If you want to read the poem, it is my pretend book which is in my pretend room, held by my pretend house. Jack did not build it. If Jack built it everything would be done by now, I would be moved and the boxes would be gone. You would say what a wonderful house Jack, what a wonderful life.
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2 comments:
What a wonderful house, Teresa. What a wonderful life.
I enjoyed this idea a great deal, Teresa. Wonderful writing.
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