BEFORE I FORGET: HER NAME WAS PETRONELLA

A love poem to a sister I once knew. She was an artist just like you and I A storyteller. A fellow traveler in this journey called life. With hopes and dreams which she weaved and Crocheted  into multi-coloured hats and scarves. Their  imperfections  perfect against the biting Johannesburg winter. Ever smiling.  Warmly as if…