Hidden July 22, 2017 ~ Ali Grimshaw She had always had the word. It greeted her in morning’s mirror. Unescapable. An ink faded indication underneath the white towel used to pat her face dry. Now heavy bangs allowed just enough coverage for protection. © Alicia Grimshaw 2017 Send a poem to your friends.Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)MoreClick to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Like this:Like Loading...
Hopefully someday she will give herself permission to grow out those bangs and pin up her hair. =) LikeLiked by 1 person Reply
Hopefully someday she will give herself permission to grow out those bangs and pin up her hair. =)
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I love this response. Hiding is no way to live.
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Too tortuous for this mere man to contemplate ….
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Thanks for your reflection.
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Unescapable. An ink faded indication
underneath the white towel
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Thank you for your reflection Kirsten. I love to hear from you.
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Very good, a tinge of mystery to it.
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Thank you for sharing.
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