As we got to know one another, she would sometimes tell me, “Each poem you write is like one of your children. Each one has a spirit and the potential to flourish.”

Needless to say, I married her.

Labor

This poem has been published in my book an inkling hope: select poems, available in Kindle and paperback formats. Out of consideration for those who have purchased a copy, I have removed it from this post and online viewing in general.

Any kind words?

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