Cigars keep secret a coveted sweetness if not puffed upon an autumn stroll in woodlands unremembered when the underbrush peacocks
Tag: word
dVerse — MTB — Google Ask Poem — I am art.
(i’m) not what you see;(i’m) bornof everything,everywhere —(your) way of survival. (i’m) fundamental;a god. (i’m) personal,relativelanguage,… dVerse — MTB —