Due Date. A poem.
The bell rings (or tolls, or so it goes) and I’m under fire again rushing into no man’s land without a weapon or a plan. A last minute dash, as if it were all she wrote (and perhaps it is … Continue reading Due Date. A poem.
The bell rings (or tolls, or so it goes) and I’m under fire again rushing into no man’s land without a weapon or a plan. A last minute dash, as if it were all she wrote (and perhaps it is … Continue reading Due Date. A poem.