We read poems on printed white sheets in english
Cover them with highlights
And words like freedom
Are covered in pink.
And a hundred years ago
It’s not the slashes through the timeline,
Not the practiced cursive
Spelling out names
That we must all know.
It’s the blank in between
Comments
I love the perspective on this and the way the light shines on some of the leaves!
I know! It's such a cool view of it, isn't it?
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