Pretty Woman
P Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Pretty Woman
rest your head on my shoulder
you are richer wine
as you grow older!
On my shoulder is a space
that craves much
the spark of happiness
from your loving touch.
Now my shoulders
been imprinted these years
with your joys your tears
there you have not grown older!
Pretty Woman
my shoulders lust your rest
and for as long they can
reap the divine harvest.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş