Reid@YWP

It was the little things that made Martha want to leave home.

A perfect ride

Is equal to music 

Each turn is a sound 

That adds to the song

A green a blue a black

Slow

Medium

You spend most of your childhood wanting to grow up. You dream of all the things you'll do, the people you'll meet, the freedom of a life where you are the captain of your own ship.

I never thought about you in the daytime 

When the sun spread like melted butter over the dwindling 

Blueberry bushes. 

I’d scavenge with them 

I rang the doorbell to your heart, 

and throughout your house it rang, 

a bouquet of astilbes in one hand 

and in the other a pink dove. 

I carved it of cherry wood just for you,