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Sharing Our Last Pistachios
We all need a place to call our own.
A space where we can be alone.
To let our thoughts be sorted out,
seeking what life is all about,
and our lives to finer hone.
We all need a friend to hear our woes.
Someone who our frail weakness knows.
To chat with, joke, laugh, dream and cry,
letting our problems heavenwards fly,
and sharing our last pistachios.
We all need a love to warm our days.
One that leads us down shared walkways.
Two in unison, perfect pair,
both cherishing and showing care,
hoping for skies of blues, not greys.
We all need a place to call our own.
A niche that is our private zone.
Where stressful troubles quickly cease,
relaxing quietly, at peace,
knowing that taxing times have flown.
We all need a place. A space. A base.
An embrace, away from the rat race!
poem
by
Ernestine Northover
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