Tulips (Sylvia Plath Poems)
The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here. Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in I am ...
The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here. Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in I am ...
Black lake, black boat, two black, cut-paper people. Where do the black trees go that drink here? Their shadows must ...
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