This poem is based upon a true event. Shortly after my grandfather passed away in August 1974, I found a battered worn down quilt in the corner of my grandparents’ living room. I had not seen it before in all my childhood years visiting there. I carefully picked it up, took it home with the hope chest my grandfather built for my grandmother when they married. I always relive that day in Goshen, NY when I reading this poem.
Le petit lapin espiègle à la veste bleue vous a toujours séduit par ses facéties et vous souhaitez en savoir plus sur celle qui lui a donné vie, ce blog vous ouvre la porte du monde fascinant de Beatrix Potter
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An Empyrean Cycle
Blurring the lines between poetry and prose
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