jomarchJosephine March, playwright and sister to three:

all flyaway hair

and skirt torn from climbing a tree.

now pouring over a book well-worn,

now biting back hateful words,

now romping with Laurie in the new snow,

now smoothing Beth’s fever-damp curls.

dear Jo, never stop trying

and do please continue your writing—

you’re everything I mean to be.

 

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