Monday, December 17, 2018

Mary Bone writes

Campfires of Old

In the campfires of old,
I was the toothless lady
Sitting at a campfire
Waiting for the pow wow.
Dark creases lined my face,
War paint covered me.
I was a smoke signal
That flames had carved
Into granite fixtures -
Remaining in the
Minds of young maidens.
A Young Lady's Adventures -- Paul Klee

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