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Abstract
Filipe</a> on <a href="https://unsplash.com/s/photos/abstract-background?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText">Unsplash</a></figcaption></figure><p id="cfb1">A hand touches my memory and floods my heart with the love of God. I run through the cornfields of my childhood and taste the pleasure o
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f a doughnut on a Sunday morning. She was my lover when the years were young and frost covered the ground. I sacrificed our son on the altar of salvation and the table of repentance. I have no more patience to give, no sorrow to forget, only a cup of tea to drink.</p><p id="e5a7">Copyright © 2020 by Harley King</p></article></body>
A hand touches my memory and floods my heart with the love of God. I run through the cornfields of my childhood and taste the pleasure of a doughnut on a Sunday morning. She was my lover when the years were young and frost covered the ground. I sacrificed our son on the altar of salvation and the table of repentance. I have no more patience to give, no sorrow to forget, only a cup of tea to drink.
Copyright © 2020 by Harley King