Dear Queen, I see you in your garden there In your yard, in the back. Tucked. and hidden. Where the chickens roam free And the dirt brings you close To the grief in your eyes. Broken and bruised. Battered and beat.
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cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
Dear Queen, I see you in your garden there In your yard, in the back. Tucked. and hidden. Where the chickens roam free And the dirt brings you close To the grief in your eyes. Broken and bruised. Battered and beat.
Read More