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| sorry about this, another drippy poem to the missus She awakens me from my moribund slumber, her gentlest touch draws me close, close to her and close to dreams, dreams of contentment, of restful peace, She'll never know the trust I hold in her, The trust to believe once more, I hold her in my failing arms, take heart, take strength, her skin flows under my loving hands, we rest together, far removed from times cold grasp. | ||
| Entry 56 of 431 |
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