By: Ardis E. Parshall - August 08, 2013 Reunion By Sylvia Probst Young I turn the corner to a quiet street.There stands a little house that I call mine,That white frame over by the willow tree;Its front porch holds a honeysuckle vine,The western window frames a twilight skyAnd larks are nesting in the willow tree –In that small world is all my happinessWithin a family circle’s intimacy. I hurry now, for coming down the street,I see t...
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