The author refers to this particular book of poetry as writing from, "the other side" of her pen. She thinks of this collection as something similar to an unruly liaison, and while she considers her other works of poetry to be her "Mozarts", she sees this one as her "Beethoven". Normally, things that run around don't bloom and things that bloom can't run around. But aren't we all like this, at the end of the day? We all run around in this world, while...
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Poetry