Praise
A part of E-husk Writes poetry collection
On the cool grass Facing westward As the crest of solaire’s love drops away. As the earth turns, We will never be this young again. And you’re never coming home.
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On the cool grass Facing westward As the crest of solaire’s love drops away. As the earth turns, We will never be this young again. And you’re never coming home.
No posts