As We Grow OldA Poem by Barbara Borel
My soul is afire with your eyes of gold. I feel your arms around me as we grow old.
As long as you want me you shall never be alone. I promise it is real what I have shown. Just be my hero and make me your bride. With flowers and candles on a horse-drawn carriage ride. Then as time steals our lives away, I would had known our love was real every day © 2017 Barbara Borel |
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3 Reviews Added on January 2, 2017 Last Updated on January 2, 2017 AuthorBarbara BorelMetairie , LAAboutBorn and raised in New Orleans. Use words as a way of expressing myself. I dont write for an audience or to get praise or please anyone. Writing is therapy. In my eyes expressing words in paper... th.. more..Writing
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