On 50's Doorstep
Somewhere Between the Lump in My Throat & the Pit in My Stomach
I can’t believe I’m saying this. I turn 50 years old next week.
A few days ago, thinking about that statement, I recalled something a professor of mine once said. “Poetry is condensed language.” He was referring to the way a group of words can mean so much figuratively, in addition to what they mean literally. The words convey sentiment and evoke emotion…
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