reflectionsaboutlifedotcom

For years, in between my bouts of debilitating pain, I have been quietly writing.  Creating folders of poetry, short stories, and even a book that sit quietly on my bookshelves waiting for the rare occasion when I would pull them off the shelf and read them.  And that is where I expected them to stay all the days of my life gathering dust and growing yellow with age, because I had no idea how to share them with the world.

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