Advice
by Ruth Stone My hazard wouldn’t be yours, not ever; But every doom, like a hazelnut, comes down To its own worm. So I am rocking here Like any granny with her apron over her head Saying, lordy me. It’s my trouble...
by Ruth Stone My hazard wouldn’t be yours, not ever; But every doom, like a hazelnut, comes down To its own worm. So I am rocking here Like any granny with her apron over her head Saying, lordy me. It’s my trouble...