Poems from rachel.meier
I trace the outline of love with your hand:
A feeling that can come in many forms;
Someone strong as rock simply turned to sand,
A new...
When I was a little girl,
I quickly took to finger painting.
It seems that many still enjoy
Tracing brush strokes across my deepest...
“They who think me hostile, obstinate, or misanthropic… how unjust they are to me. For they do not know the secret reason I appear that...