The parish doorbell rings.
When I descend the stair
nobody is there,
only a bag that sings
mournfully by the door,
holding some baby shoes
and little Polo crews
tagged at the Target store.
—Timothy Murphy
The parish doorbell rings.
When I descend the stair
nobody is there,
only a bag that sings
mournfully by the door,
holding some baby shoes
and little Polo crews
tagged at the Target store.
—Timothy Murphy