Nature’s first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower; but only for an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay. By Robert Frost.

Robert Frost said, “No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader.” A lot of ☆poetry is about loss.

For me, (Frankie) “I can’t do ☆this anymore.” I’m broken by life. Too much effort needed to hold onto life that can’t be held. Everything ends up in the ground. Frankie The Earthman.

Nothing gold can stay. Bon Voyage, I have been trying to end the misery of writing for a while now, it is a curse.

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