64 and by the door
That hasn’t been painted in so long
Each spring a fresh coat of white as she sang her song
Spring with her hair so long from the cold wintertime
That he would ask her not to cut as it shined
That hung around her face
Molding her in grace
Still breathless she had been mine…
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Author:
Tayama (
Offline) - Published: June 22nd, 2020 09:40
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 12
Offline)
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