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Abstract
4" type="7">Ah yes, my hair, my curly hair “It looks so soft,” they’d say And then ‘May I?’ As hands reached out to stroke my head and I would clam and bear the pat and drool as curls were likened to the wool of a — sacrificial — lamb</p><p id="4258">Again another reaction to a prompt from the never-ending poem chain. This time from <a href="undefined">G.R. MELVIN</a>: “Lamb”, one I couldn’t resist as the word triggered memories of childhood discomfort.</p><div id="ebd6" class="link-block"> <a href="https:/
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/readmedium.com/lavender-dark-e866b9d2345e"> <div> <div> <h2>LAVENDER DARK</h2> <div><h3>.</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*OsSUbZqSO8D79iJRtPAw3A.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="1070"><a href="undefined">Sylvia Wohlfarth</a> 2020</p></article></body>
Ah yes, my hair, my curly hair “It looks so soft,” they’d say And then ‘May I?’ As hands reached out to stroke my head and I would clam and bear the pat and drool as curls were likened to the wool of a — sacrificial — lamb
Again another reaction to a prompt from the never-ending poem chain. This time from G.R. MELVIN: “Lamb”, one I couldn’t resist as the word triggered memories of childhood discomfort.
Sylvia Wohlfarth 2020
