Thursday, March 14, 2013

Her


Her eyes sparkle like the morning dew.

Her voice is a gentle whisper upon my neck.

Her touch is that of a thousand rose petals.

She glows with the light of a hundred moons.

When she is around it seems to always be a warm spring day.

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I have no clue who this is about or when I wrote it.  It was so long ago.



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