Winter Rain (to Virginia Woolf) from Lynda McKinney Lambert's book: Star Signs: New and Selected Poems
Recent memories Solitary warnings and time together. Copies? There are no copies. Hair dyed the reddest red. I should make a note And send it to myself. Success and failure are a soup not right in someone else's house. I'll write about what I know Tuck it in a book by Elizabeth Barret Browning. There's no plot There is no conversation as she walked into the ocean to express a story-- avery big house slowly falling apart bare trees celebrate the winter rain. We are going for a walk when the first snow falls. It is impossible to tell about a conflict-- trees, winter's breeze, and survival.