Sweet and sour

by Lawrence J. J. Leonard

With each down there is an up
as Fall rises in every cup.

Before with worry for the everafter
is tomorrow’s chore, was yesterday’s laughter.

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Old, light, house

by Lawrence J. J. Leonard

Pushing through the front doors
the warmth embraces me in an out-of-place way.

Normally so cold with the air conditioner running,
the quiet is bombarded by my footsteps upon the stone foyer.

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