Penny Reeve children's author
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Ode to my iron.

5/6/2015

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My iron died.
Half way through a T-shirt. 
I saw a faint waft of smoke rising, 
so I think it's really gone. 
This iron has traveled many miles; 
smoothed suit jacket and sari,
meri-blous and school shirt. 
It's grimy on one side,
with a residue picked up in Pokhara,
and smooth on the other by frequent use. 
I've even got a shiny scar
the hot nudging of this iron 
on the inside of my wrist. 
Goodbye my trusty friend.
It's been a crease free 17 years. 



Penny Reeve, 2015. 
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    The Penny Drops

    In high school I used to call them 'thinks' - little bits of writing about whatever topic or issue I was mulling over at the time. These days I probably call them journal entries, or blog posts. Whatever the name, here's some of what I get when the penny drops, or doesn't, and I sit down to write... 

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