Poem of the Week, by Mark Irwin

One thought on “Poem of the Week, by Mark Irwin”

  1. Oh, that reminds me of the Woolworth’s I often visited with my father as a child: the smell of the lunch counter, the chirping birds, the bins full of ever-changing tantalizing items. I was so sad when it closed, and when I found one downtown Chicago, I wandered around remembering. I believe that one is gone now too. Only the memories remain, and the lovely poem to read over my black circle of coffee.

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