The pastA Poem by scarecrow29
Aeons passed before we'd meet again
I'd miss her, feel the hurt and pain, Then we'd see each other, her and me, She'd say hello, her voice to me, like honey. The days together, like wildfire, the days not, like a chilly winter. © 2013 scarecrow29 |
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Added on September 7, 2013 Last Updated on September 7, 2013 |