Writing poetry, started at twelve
After that, dared not delve
Compared myself to my peers
My confidence lagged. . . for years
Mine were trite, all concealing.
Theirs deep, too revealing.
Sensitive, fragile, I was then,
would not put my heart to pen.
Today tales I have a lot
Too old to care if out they got.
Living with flare, have full life.
Time to share internal strife.
– – June Nash
I added this poem to the ‘About’ tab on this blog.
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