Dreams
M
Mark Heathcote
0
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Our dreams are precious flowers.
Ah, each one borne upon the wind
Comes-to-while-away the hours
Each blossom is a gift disinclined
To unlock her chamber -embowers.
And nourishment is required.
So we must persevere in our faith
In whatever shells get misfired
We must overcome every malaise
And somehow remain awe-inspired.
Bu şiiri puanla
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