-
The Old Folks
The old folks—my, a race, A people all their own, I used to dread the day, I’d be so stooped and grown. I used to think—my sakes, To be so pale and slow,…
-
These Old Things
I walk through the aisle of an antique mall, In a building that’s still and old, There are not many folks come here to shop, For the new is better, I’m told. But…
Hannah Linder Books
