Copeland's so magnificent sometimes. Like another piece of hers I highlighted a few years ago, this one sings with the night (of a new love, cast against an old). I don't know that it's a story so much of a remembrance, a brilliant moment, or set of moments, impressed into the page--or the screen, since you can read it here at New World Writing.
Showing posts with label Lydia Copeland Gwyn. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lydia Copeland Gwyn. Show all posts
Saturday, December 28, 2013
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