A Rose Jar

By Ruby Archer

Each heart—a rose-jar—teemeth, richly sweet
With prisoned perfume of a vanished time;
The spice of memory holds those odors fleet;
A birthday lifts the lid, and we may greet
Once more the breath of life’s fair blossom,
Gathered in their prime.

Dear Black Child - Grace Storm Ad

Dear Black Child - Grace Storm Ad
Dear Black Child - Grace Storm Ad