Christopher Robinson

The Sunday Poem: Christopher Robinson

        Hotdog     They salvaged only what was vital, leaving behind their most precious belongings, including Aunt Beale’s watercolors, which were lost, and the thousand paper cranes Dad had folded to win Mom over, placing them on her usual routes, at the post office, in the library [...]

By | 2016-11-11T21:53:39+00:00 12.03.11|The Sunday Poem, Words|Comments Off on The Sunday Poem: Christopher Robinson