She was born, and she lived, and she died.
We think she must have laughed
And we think she must have cried
But all the things about herself
She kept locked up inside
So all we know about her
Are the things she couldn't hide:
She was born, and she lived, and she died.
A friend suggested I post my poetry, so I'm giving it a try. Please ask me before using my poems, and use my name as author. If you wish to follow this blog, enter your email address below and click submit. Thanks! Jackie Yeates Ginn
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