Red Red Rose by
Nancy Medina
10X10
Oil on Gallery Wrap
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My mother began writing poetry when we were toddlers. She collected her poems in a large spiralbound notebook over the years. By the time we were in high school, she had been published in several anthologies and had won some awards for her writings. She did not tell us she wrote poetry, or show us her work, until I was 22 years old. She wrote a poem about me once, and it told of a kitten who grew up and whom she could no longer protect from the world. Read more...
Red Roses on the easel


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