Outsider
(by Una Crowe)

That picture is the
Family. Beyond the frame
I wait still. You in
There without me. I knowing
Some pieces can never fit



Passing
(by Una Crowe)

It's not:

The loneliness

Of seeing no one;

The silence rapping

On my front door;

The chance my story

Is tedious, boring,

Irrevelant

In the world's uproar.

Even the fear of

Being discarded,

Written off the mailing board:

But the pain of memory

When we were happy,

If I hadn't known you

Could my loss be more?

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