creedon@reed.UUCP (Thomas A. Creedon) (04/03/85)
LAST QUARTER He lies by my side Sleeping in the sun Patterns and light glide Over him softly One Eye flickers then He is still. I am mending, tending The broken roots and stems So wishing I weren't rending This gentlest of ends Deeply I cry. Holly This poem is by a friend of mine. Critique?