poetry, tankaRefugee’s keepsake. (tanka) He held the pieces of a burnt up Polaroid, charred along the seams from when he’d fold and unfold her smile from before the war. © Nancy Botta, 2019 Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Like this:Like Loading... Related Standard
You have captured well words that evoke powerful imagery. LikeLiked by 1 person February 11, 2019 at 4:03 pm Reply
This is grand. I don’t even have words for it. LikeLiked by 1 person February 11, 2019 at 4:23 pm Reply
Tugged at my heart. So much captured in a paucity of words. LikeLiked by 1 person February 11, 2019 at 9:26 pm Reply
Reblogged this on By the Mighty Mumford and commented: EXCELLENT, EXCELLENT! AND WELL-TOLD STORY! LikeLiked by 1 person February 12, 2019 at 10:11 am Reply
TANKA FOR THIS PRECISE AND LOVING TANKA! 🙂 Welcome to my neck of the woods! LikeLiked by 1 person February 12, 2019 at 10:13 am Reply
Rusted Honey 
You have captured well words that evoke powerful imagery.
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That is just perfect. Beautiful.
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This is grand. I don’t even have words for it.
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Nostalgic & Captivating
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Absolutely love this!! Well done!!
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Tugged at my heart. So much captured in a paucity of words.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reblogged this on By the Mighty Mumford and commented:
EXCELLENT, EXCELLENT! AND WELL-TOLD STORY!
LikeLiked by 1 person
TANKA FOR THIS PRECISE AND LOVING TANKA! 🙂 Welcome to my neck of the woods!
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Lovely!
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Just wonderful, Nancy! *Sniff sniff
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Beautiful!
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