This day, my Julia, thou must make
For Mistress Bride the wedding-cake:
Knead but the dough, and it will be
To paste of almonds turn'd by thee;
Or kiss it thou but once or twice,
And for the bride-cake there'll be spice.
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I'm not a real movie star. I've still got the same wife I started out with twenty-eight years ago.
by Kathleen Lynch My mother prowled the yard, winding wires around bare stems
of rose bushes, attaching Woolworth's plastic roses—
her flowered house dress puffed out full,
hair lifting like flames. I watched, ...