To read my new/old poem about young Merry at Literary Mama,
Click HERE
I remember her well, dressed in her new clothes from Grandma, strutting about at the end of our street in Pennsylvania, tipping her glasses down her nose to watch cars zoom past.
And now she's no longer a preadolescent.
Click HERE
I remember her well, dressed in her new clothes from Grandma, strutting about at the end of our street in Pennsylvania, tipping her glasses down her nose to watch cars zoom past.
And now she's no longer a preadolescent.
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