Mar14 My father’s old shirt— the fragrance of mountain mist lingers on the sleeves. Mar8 The sleeves of my shirt still bear the fragrance of pine from distant mountains. Sewing Sep16 sewing a button on my father’s tattered shirt now that it is mine Laundry Mar5 laundry on the line— west wind snapping one red dress and seven white shirts Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use. To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy Follow Following Mark M. Redfearn Join 476 other followers Sign me up Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now. Mark M. Redfearn Customize Follow Following Sign up Log in Report this content View site in Reader Manage subscriptions Collapse this bar
Mar8 The sleeves of my shirt still bear the fragrance of pine from distant mountains. Sewing Sep16 sewing a button on my father’s tattered shirt now that it is mine Laundry Mar5 laundry on the line— west wind snapping one red dress and seven white shirts Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use. To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy Follow Following Mark M. Redfearn Join 476 other followers Sign me up Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now. Mark M. Redfearn Customize Follow Following Sign up Log in Report this content View site in Reader Manage subscriptions Collapse this bar
Sewing Sep16 sewing a button on my father’s tattered shirt now that it is mine Laundry Mar5 laundry on the line— west wind snapping one red dress and seven white shirts