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Grace

She walks alone and has such airs, though airless be the things which she desires. She smiles throughout, as each blow falls, with the martyrless grace that sainthood requires. She takes such pride, though there be none, in each and every task she is assigned. Then bending low, with so much care, lends grace and beauty to man’s most unrefined.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020




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Date: 2/18/2020 1:24:00 PM
- Beautifully described ... I know how good she is ... and she has every reason to be proud, Alison - It is sad that not everyone sees her ... because she really exists :) - hugs // Anne-Lise :)
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Alison Hodges
Date: 2/18/2020 1:26:00 PM
Thank you so much Sunshine … There is a bit of her in each one of us I think.
Date: 2/18/2020 11:10:00 AM
I think of Mother Theresa as I read this poem. I have know people like this who were so giving and never asked anything in return. Nicely written, Allison. John
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Alison Hodges
Date: 2/18/2020 11:18:00 AM
That's funny … I almost titled it Mother Theresa! Thanks for the comment.
Date: 2/18/2020 10:38:00 AM
A lovely pen Alison, such beautiful words displayed so well here. Welcome to PS, trust you're enjoying it here. Blessings from Scotland, Gordon
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Alison Hodges
Date: 2/18/2020 11:19:00 AM
Thank you Gordon. I love Scotland! I'm enjoying PS perhaps too much... I can't seem to stop writing..

Book: Reflection on the Important Things