The Legacy Of Love
Before the day my parents met
And love was found within
And their romance was firmly set
So they would not give in,
The Lord knew I was soon to be,
His heritage of love,
The firstborn of the ones born free,
Each granted grace enough...
Before the day I went to school,
Eleven years to learn,
I knew that life was kind and cruel,
Their lessons to discern...
I faced exams like others did,
With mixed results I passed...
So what? For I was just a kid,
Till I left school at last...
Before the day I went to work,
To earn a daily crust,
Here was the chance I could not shirk,
The chance to prove their trust...
So years passed by, with small reward,
A pittance, nothing more,
Until the day I found the Lord
Who showed what life was for...
Before my life had run its course,
I preached the Word for years,
About God's Prophets and God's Laws
To open hearts and ears...
But nothing moves me quite as much
As this one certainty,
God grants to me His loving touch
When people pray for me...
Before I leave this world behind,
Its destiny to face,
I thank those people who were kind
My problems to embrace...
They gave me strength to help me cope,
They prayed by day and night...
To these I leave the words of hope
I write and write and write...
poem by Denis Martindale
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Related quotes
The story of my life in a poem
Poem of Meg's life,
Meg was brought up as she later found out,
Adopted by parents, but unsure how it came about;
She didn't sit up till 2 years of age, this is true,
And didn't start to talk till 5, so no how do you do.
She went to a special school from 7 yrs of age,
But had many problems walking, at that stage;
Went in a taxi, every Monday to Friday,
Had many a party there to celebrate her birthday.
Her mother brought up 3girls, with a disability too,
1 arm because of cancer, but she coped thru' and thru;
She took us girls to Sunday school each and every week,
And taught us to love God, to pray, and his truth to seek.
We lived in Dandenong, till I was 12 years of age,
But my sister wasn't there, she was nowhere at that stage;
We shifted to Gladstone in Queensland you know,
It's where Meg was baptized by immersion that is so.
At 16 She started teaching,2 - 6 years in Sunday school,
At 17 we shifted back, but then dad started to be cruel;
I celebrated my 21st, birthday, with a wonderful musical night,
It made friends and family happy, things were happy and bright.
My mum passed on to the Lord, and I shifted away from home,
For 4 yrs I lived in Glenroy, in a flat and on my own;
I was in THE Salvation Army, serving the Lord, each week,
Playing the organ and harp, teaching the youth, the Lord to seek.
I then shifted to ascot vale, then over to st albans to live,
Married a man with problems, and troubles to me he did give;
But 12 yrs of problems I'm free of it now, so thankyou,
To the Lord for release and strength, and that He's brought me thru'.
And then I started at Sunshine, in the band where I did play,
And sang and read the Word, helping in many a way;
THE Lord showed me time to learn more, so off to college I go,
To learn how to be a minister for Christ, and His way to show.
So now I'm 58 years of age, seeking to do right with the Lord,
It's great to preach and learn, but to understand His Word;
And I want to thankyou for coming to celebrate my special day,
Please enjoy yourselves and enjoy the meal, on this my 58th birthday.
Written 4th/6th/2012.
poem by Margaret Haig
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Give The People In The World A Chance
Give the people in the world
A chance to embrace peace
Give the people in the world
A chance to make friends
Give the people in the world
A chance for a better education
So it can help them to get
A better paying job
Give the people in the world
A chance for them to love each other
Give a chance for the people in the world to pray
Give a chance for the people in the world to learn
To be happy
Give a chance for the people in the world to learn
To eat healthy
And to learn to take better care of their health
Give a chance for the people in the world to learn how to relax
And to learn how to cope with their anger
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Everything I Own
(david gates)
You sheltered me from harm
Kept me warm, kept me warm
You gave my life to me
Set me free, set me free
The finest years I ever knew
Were all the years I had with you
I would give anything I own
Give up my life, my heart, my home
I would give anything I own
Just to have you back again
You taught me how to love
What its of, what its of
You never said too much but still you showed the way
And I knew from watching you
Nobody else could ever know
The part of me that cant let go
I would give anything I own
Give up my life, my heart, my home
I would give anything I own
Just to have you back again
Is there someone you know
Youre loving them so
Youre taking them all for granted
You may lose them one day
Someone takes them away
And they dont hear the words you long to say
I would give anything I own
Give up my life, my heart, my home
I would give anything I own
Just to have you back again
Just to touch you once again
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everything I Own
You sheltered me from harm
Kept me warm kept me warm
You gave my life to me
You set me free
Set me free
The finest years I ever knew
For all the years I had with you
I would give anything I own
I'd give up me life my heart my home
I would give everything I own
Just to have you back again
You taught me how to love
What a time what a time
You never said too much
But still you showed the way
And I knew from watching you
Nobody else could ever know
The part of me that can't let go
I would give everything I own
Give up me life, my heart, my home
I would give everything I own
Just to have you back again
Is there someone you know
Loving them so
Taking them all for granted
You may lose them one day
Someone takes them away
And they don't hear the words you
Long to say
Give up my life, give up my heart
Everthing I own
I would give anything I own
Give up me life, my heart, my home
I would give everything I own Just to have you back again
song performed by by N Sync
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Conversations Of The Heart
the first poem that you really find it hard to write
is to write an image which must tell her
that you love her truly from the bottom of your heart, and then
the most beautiful poem comes from her when she admits that she
also loves you with all her heart and soul and mind,
and then the saddest poem
was not written.
it was when everything ended.
the years passed.
and you do not even know
where she is.
it is always the saddest poem,
when you do not know where to find love again.
you say, not anymore, but
it can be a lie, for how can one live without it?
All corners of the world are looking for it.
They seem not to find it,
and all these corners will only stop writing
and talking and speaking
when love is found
when their hearts are
filled,
when their mouths
cannot utter a word,
because of so much abundance,
bliss, joy, happiness,
all these shall make us mute for another hundred years.
(do we ever reach there?)
honestly in making love, (and be in so much trouble loving,)
words do not have use,
love, you embrace me with so much intensity
all my nerves sing, neurons spark with flints,
i explode, finished.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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One More Chance
(michael masser/gerry goffin)
Feel like a fool
Not realizing all the value you had
I took a happy ending and made it sad
The day I walked away and left you alone
With hardly an explanation
You stood on your own
And handled the situation
And showed to me
How understanding you could be
Now Im alone
Looking back at all the years that we shared
Thinking of the pain you should have been spared
Afraid to ask forgiveness
But where can I go
Theres no one else to turn to
I still have my pride
But now its time to learn to cast it aside
And come to you with honesty
Give me just one more chance
Such a simple thing Im asking for
Just one more chance
It would be a shame to close the door to
One more chance
Isnt that what we pray each night for?
One more chance
Isnt that what were fighting for?
Why throw away a love that needs one more chance
Now Im afraid that after all Ive said
Youll still turn me down and youll smile
And say Ill see you around
But remember that you still have a choice
And I hope and pray youll make it
Youll think of my heart
And you wont wanna break it
And Ill prove to you the kind of lady I can be
Give me just one more chance
Such a simple thing Im asking for
Just one more chance
It would be a shame to close the door to
One more chance
Isnt that what we pray each night for?
One more chance
Isnt that what were fighting for?
One more chance
Dont you know that we belong together
One more chance
Now I really need you more than ever
One more chance
You and I can really make it baby
One more chance
All you have do is say the words to
One more chance
One more
One more chance
One more chance
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Strangers
In 1958, I last saw someone
whom would disappear from my life
until December 2006.
Our meeting was not face to face,
but across the internet.
Three cheers for technology.
She recognised me from an old school photo
it was not until I saw the class photo
after she pointed out herself
that I did recognise who she was.
For countless years you see,
I thought of her under a different name
which why I did not recognise her straight away.
The New Year came and we talked
about how our lives in the intervening years.
She introduced me to a friend
whom did the same thing as me - write.
At first, I was confused
and within our correspondence,
my confusion did show.
I gave out so many mixed signals
that I shudder to think at what she thought.
Slowly as time passed,
I grew more admiration for these two strangers
who suddenly entered into my life
and they became firm friends.
Years before I had given up on writing,
the one thing that I did best.
Like two earth angels,
they lifted me and carried me though
to a new chapter in my life.
The names of these two angels
are Suzanne Gaddess and Melvina Germain.
Between them both,
they gave me friendship
and much, much more.
They dragged me from the pit of despair
and showed me the right road to take.
I have never looked back since,
well only occasionally
to make sure my two loving friends are still there.
In 2009, I plan to meet them
and give each some great big hugs
to these two wonderful strangers
I met across the internet.
14 November 2008
poem by David Harris
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All I Can Do Now Is Write Another Poem
All I can do now is write another poem-
The poems are small,
And do not require the long hours and long years
Of the books-
Like the world as a whole
I seem to have a shorter attention span
And less patience-
A poem can be written and given a name
In minutes not years-
Though some would say a great poem
Takes the travail of years of waiting
And years of work-
But I did not say
‘All I can do now is write another great poem'
Perhaps I have in all the years of the nights never written one-
I can write the poems I write
My kinds of poems
In a fairly short time-
All I can do now
Is write another of my kind of poems-
Whether they be worth anything,
Or not.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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This Is Payment Price This Poet Pays
My friend is a salary man luckily gainfully employed
five days a week for eight hours a day he earns his pay.
I also for decades worked my days for weekly monthly pay.
I studied hard put in extra time to fully earn my worker pay,
years sped by I worked and worked to earn hard earned pay,
now for a time a time and a half I do not work this way.
I write I write each day by day or through long night.
I work far harder than I did employed in salary fight.
I live on savings hard earned to earn a right to write.
I charge not chance reader read or read not just as you like.
I work I sacrifice to give gift of love as free as stars above.
I give in time in thought in words in wisdom I give in love.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Hidden Within
I write more on some days
than I do on others.
On those days there is an urgency
hidden within what I do.
I cannot explain it,
nor do I ever try.
I just sit down, write,
and write to my hearts content.
The pouring out of words
is something I have got used to.
I write wherever I am, at home,
in my car when I am not driving of course.
Walking along the street, even in my sleep.
My mind is always active
exploring new avenues,
laying waste to more words.
It is my way of life
and I would be lost without it.
I once gave up for six or seven years,
but its pull was always there.
It’s something I will never do again.
My legacy when I leave this world
will be within my words
and any good things I have done.
Hopefully, that won’t be
for a long, long time to come.
24 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Prabhu's Blessings
The sky may look hollow
But certain things are expected to follow
*Prabhu, Lord has showered me with blessings
An old man dying on death bed sees it as kind things
Not all may realize the importance
If little good is said at once
It may not be by chance
But from heart by an ounce
I am humble man
Ordinary and down to earth human
Feel sore at plight of bird even
After all it is fancy and deliberately driven
What poets generally feel and write?
Clash it with changing world and fight
Leave no ground to convince the readers
That you need a voice not from leader
Not metaphors or beautiful words may appeal
Not a good picture or contents may look real
But if feeling is mixed with simple words
It may certainly work with people to look forward
Many things are happening around
Not feeling of closeness is found
I feel dejected as if to have wasted time
Life is so precious and not to be spent cheaply sometimes
Someone showed me the way and pushed me to front
To show the masses that there is something not to confront
Love and peace can't bargained with hatred and annihilation
Mother earth is beautiful to live in and build very good relation
*Prabhu…..God, Lord
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Dawn Of Reasoning Interconnected Mind
At the traditional age of consent,
I found a great undeniable love
for poetry as I strove to make sense
of this world with its nightmare,
of ignored unresolved problems.
I never had the chance to write,
most of my thoughts, down in
poetry. To reflect my reactions
to the events of my era. Life did
not allow time for contemplation.
It is my ardent hope that economic
circumstances or perhaps a more
focused determination; will allow
you to succeed in writing out more
poems of vital importance than I did.
I wrote when time allowed maybe
one in ten of my poems and often
the easiest. While years passed by
sometimes with nothing but work.
The gap in thought record haunts.
Ignore constant discouraging critic.
Your success now is mine your failure
mine. Therefore keep focused and let
at least some of your poetry, address
real issues. And write write write now!
You are in a time and place that requires
strong young poets from within. Past great
American poets would be devastating with
words writ in this era. I am not American,
you must be our voice from within, voice
proclaim and publish your insight! Pray or
meditate as you will and write that which
I lacking your knowledge cannot. The words
will come because the age topics demands it.
We are united in poetry and desire to express
difficult thoughts and concepts, hopefully to
be a voice of positive change! Tools are at
your finger tips, I never had contact with other
poets, in an electronic interconnected web of
minds, at the dawn of righteous determination.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Knock, Knock
Lord Jesus stood there at my door
And twice He knocked then stayed.
It was my choice, I could ignore
And that's why I delayed.
He walked away.
I watched Him leave
Then got on with my life,
To sin like others who deceive
And cause all sorts of strife
Lord Jesus stood there at my door
And I watched Him inside.
I knew He knew my every flaw,
Not one could be denied.
I stood my ground, He left again.
I let Him walk away.
I struggled every now and then
With fears of Judgment Day.
My bank account looked mighty fine
As fifteen years passed by.
To think that all that cash was mine.
How come my soul felt dry?
Lord Jesus stood there at my door,
With fear I turned the key.
And simply stared at Christ with awe.
You see, He died for me.
Lord Jesus entered as my friend,
Yet also set me straight.
My useless life came to an end,
God's love to celebrate.
I sighed I'd made Him wait so long.
Those years I can't restore.
I tell you this, you can't go wrong
If you open the door.
poem by Denis Martindale
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Your Poems About Love Revisited
the first poem that you really find it hard to write
is to write an image which must tell her
that you love her truly from the bottom of your heart, and then
the most beautiful poem comes from her when she admits that she
also loves you with all her heart and soul and mind,
and then the saddest poem
was not written.
it was when everything ended.
the years passed.
and you do not even know
where she is.
it is always the saddest poem,
when you do not know where to find love
anymore.
All corners of the world are looking for it.
They seem not to find it,
and all these corners will only stop writing
and talking and speaking
when love is found
when their hearts are
filled,
when their mouths
cannot utter a word,
because of so much abundance,
bliss, joy, happiness, these shall make
us mute for another hundred years.
for in making love,
words do not have use,
except to call its name again
on the intensity of feeling....love.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Not Regular Visitor
I am not regular visitor
To shrines, churches or mosques
Yet I believe firmly in creator
But I find long wait and queues
I am blessed with his kind eye
That sees whole universe with smile
I find no tense moments when stat to write
As the wind carries in sky my little kite
We are held firmly by his wishes
How many may be daily waiting to perish?
Some may be parting with so much pleasure!
And some may be unfulfilled with discomfort and unsure
I did the work with difference
Projected all views through sentences
Might have gone here and there without precision
Yet that was perfect moment with clear decision
I knew no meaning of good poetry
I thought it may fine putting of words like good oratory
It proved little difficult when put into practice
It seemed all the more difficult to fulfill promises
It remained very in tense at heart
Some one rightly said” it is prayer with art”
Not all can sing a praises in his songs
As we are selfish and prove all the time wrong
My heart aches when hear some bitter words
I don’t take it to heart and believe in lord
I close eyes and pray for next good moment
Never bear a grudge in mind or lament
This makes me less vulnerable
I am more confident and capable
Poetic words flow from innocent heart
I think life can make with it a good start
What else can I do to project it properly?
But I have found the way to feel it happily
I think it is pure grace that poems flow directly
Those words create some harmony in mind divinely
Sure those words may be cutting across
People may be finding it boring or clear loss
I take it simple way of reaching to kind people
If little can be done to relieve their problems and troubles
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life in Motion
I am not regular visitor
To shrines, churches or mosques
Yet I believe firmly in creator
But I find long wait and queues
I am blessed with his kind eye
That sees whole universe with smile
I find no tense moments when stat to write
As the wind carries in sky my little kite
We are held firmly by his wishes
How many may be daily waiting to perish?
Some may be parting with so much pleasure!
And some may be unfulfilled with discomfort and unsure
I did the work with difference
Projected all views through sentences
Might have gone here and there without precision
Yet that was perfect moment with clear decision
I knew no meaning of good poetry
I thought it may fine putting of words like good oratory
It proved little difficult when put into practice
It seemed all the more difficult to fulfill promises
It remained very in tense at heart
Some one rightly said” it is prayer with art”
Not all can sing a praises in his songs
As we are selfish and prove all the time wrong
My heart aches when hear some bitter words
I don’t take it to heart and believe in lord
I close eyes and pray for next good moment
Never bear a grudge in mind or lament
This makes me less vulnerable
I am more confident and capable
Poetic words flow from innocent heart
I think life can make with it a good start
What else can I do to project it properly?
But I have found the way to feel it happily
I think it is pure grace that poems flow directly
Those words create some harmony in mind divinely
Sure those words may be cutting across
People may be finding it boring or clear loss
I take it simple way of reaching to kind people
If little can be done to relieve their problems and troubles
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Parents When Old, Want From Their Children …
When you were small, a helpless kid,
Just imagine what parents did,
From feeding to keeping you clean –
A routine that had always been!
And now when parents are quite aged,
They feel like birds both that are caged;
Just give them half the love they gave;
Don’t lose your temper / misbehave!
When you were small and could not bathe,
Mom bathed you with towel to swathe,
And wiped you dry and combed your hair,
All your mischief, she had to bear!
When parents are now pretty old,
Or have a fever, catch a cold,
Should not the children care for them,
And treat them for each new problem?
When you were just a little child,
And parents scolded you so mild,
To show you what was wrong and right,
And chalk a future that was bright!
And now when parents have gone weak,
To walk, your assistance, they seek,
Oblige them with a heart all glad:
Old age is less happy, much sad!
When you were craving for good food,
Your mother cooked it as she should,
And heaved a sigh of great relief,
When you’d slept, in disbelief!
And now, when parents ask something,
Be kind and courteously do bring,
They cannot buy whatev’r they feel;
They cannot run or walk or kneel!
When you’d joined school for the first time,
And could not say even a rhyme,
Your mom had taught you how to write,
And sang a ‘lullaby’ at night!
And now when parents cannot read,
And reached a stage, they cannot feed,
Shouldn’t children help them with these chores,
And see that they don’t get bed-sores?
When you were children very small,
And appeared each, a tiny doll,
Your parents helped to dress you up,
And without spilling, drink from cup!
When parents elderly now need,
A blanket when it’s cold indeed,
Should children not offer the same,
Avoiding saying words of shame?
As children, you knew not to talk,
And parents taught you how to walk,
And told you stories, sang you songs,
Correcting you in all your wrongs!
Now old-aged parents, need your love,
And not the warmth of any stove!
They want their children to converse,
And not a filled wallet or purse!
You turned a man, woman o’er years,
While parents wiped away your tears,
And found a partner good for life,
Ensuring days, devoid of strife.
When parents are now bed-ridden,
And tell you truths that were hidden,
Shouldn’t you mitigate suffering,
Without causing some bickering?
Yes, children, you cannot return
The love what parents’ hearts did burn;
Thank God for giving such great souls,
Who led you to heavenly goals.
The least that aged parents ask,
Is see their children do God’s task,
And live in harmony with all
Relatives, neighbors, till Lord’s call!
So, do your duty to parents
In ripe old age in ways you can,
And get their blessings on kindred,
That stays generations hundred!
Attend on parents in good cheer;
Be kind to them and always near;
Not all offspring get this chance rare,
To have parents old-aged, to care!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-12-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Life's Greatest Treasure
Met in high school, still together
when college did come.
Graduation day, a joy for us two,
together we decided to be one,
darling, just me and you.
Two years passed and with a
baby girl we were blessed, like
two birds we had started our
loving nest. She brought such
joy to us, so in God we then
put all our trust.
We decided that we needed you
at home, so you became a 'stay at
home Mom.' Such loving care you
poured into out little one and
into our growing home.
Late the following spring, God had
blessed our lives again. A little
brother for our Sara Anne. We were
so happy, so filled with joy, God's gift
to us, a baby boy.
We watched them grow, and so close
they grew, bringing so much love to
me and you. We had such strength
in our little family, there was nothing
we couldn't do, in our hearts, love
would conquer all, this we knew.
The day little Joey turned two, another
blessing, as you gave us the news.
A long nine months, as so many
troubles you had, the day came when
once again you made me a Dad.
But when the doctor gave the news,
it left us broken hearted and sad.
You grew so weak, each breath came
far and few, I prayed to God, 'honey I
knew I couldn't lose you.' I held your hand,
as the children did cling to your side,
you took that last breath, 'honey that
was the moment the biggest part
of me died.'
An infant in my arms, two more standing,
clinging onto my side, the rose petals fell
so softly onto the mound of dirt, I don't
think I have ever felt such a hurt.
Remembering the touch of your hand,
the softness in your voice, alone now I
have to do this, I have no choice.
Each day on my way to work, and to take
the kids to school, we stop and give
a rose to you. We stand by you still
each day, and silently to God we pray.
We miss your tenderness, your hugs
and your sweet kiss.
It is hard day to day, the children and
I, trying to make our way. We see you
in the stars at night, we feel your hugs,
when I tuck them in tight. Their tears still
fall, as in the night your name they still
call. It's just not the same dear, since God
took you home, 'I have never felt
so alone.'
On the weekends to our ocean retreat,
through the mist of the oceans we
hear your voice so sweet. Remembering
the ocean to be your favorite place,
going back there, recapturing your
beautiful face.
Hearing your whipsers in the gentle
waves, saying your last goodbys
as you left us that day. Been a year
now, the pain is still there, but I know
you are at peace, in his loving care. 'Darling,
you gave us nothing but sheer pleasure,
and in Heaven I know, God now holds, our
life's greatest treasure.
No one will ever take your place, the
beauty you posessed will never
be found in any heart, nor on any face.
We know you are here with us each and
every day, without you dear, we
wouldn't make it through the day. I see
you in our children, in every tear that
they cry, rest peacefully now my love,
till we meet in our home that I know
you are preparing for us all, there in
the sky.
poem by Ruth warren
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A Poet To Be
A poet I claim not to be,
For words are never there.
In all the years I've tried to write,
I have no words to share.
I sit and think but nothing comes,
No inspiration here.
I want to write of anything,
But still no words I fear.
I read the works of other poets,
I wish I were like them.
How do they write such beautiful lines,
A poet, I'm not him.
I try to write from the heart,
From deep within my soul.
I try to write of the love I have,
But cannot reach my goal.
But why I ask, why can't I write,
Of love so pure and true.
Why can't I write about her eyes,
A mix of green and blue.
I want to write about her smile,
It brightens up my day.
I try to think of anything,
But words I cannot say.
I wish I knew how to write,
A poem with such bliss.
I wish I knew how to describe,
Her soft but tender kiss.
I cannot even begin to write,
How she holds me tight.
How her arms around me,
Makes everything just right.
A poet does not have to think,
The words flow right out.
When I sit and try to write,
I want to scream and shout.
I mean come on, how hard can it be,
To write about her hair.
Such long beautiful natural blonde,
That flows in the air.
I try to write about her laugh,
The words will not fly.
Time passes and finally,
I say it's soft and high.
It's been an hour and a half,
I'm here on verse twelve.
I had to go to Rhymezone,
To find out the rhyme is shelve.
A poet does not do that,
Go online to find a rhyme.
A poet has it in his head,
And can write at any time.
But a poet I am not,
For I cannot write of love.
How the girl I am with,
Is an angel from up above.
How I love her with all my heart,
And want to spend my life with her.
How her love for me is more,
Than I can ever be for sure.
As I draw near the end,
My mind is not so numb.
I realize I've just written of love,
A poet I have become.
poem by Adam McKim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When It Hurts The Least
I will leave you with tears crawling down my face
I will leave and it will feel like moving to hell from grace
I will leave because i cannot bear your distance
I will leave because life just wont give us a chance
I will leave knowing i have done everything i could do
I will leave owning nothing but our memories and your photo
I will leave with the last bit of pride left in me
I will leave but first i will unlock my heart and set you free
I will leave and it will tear me apart not looking back
I will leave, wave goodbye and my life will slowly turn black
I will leave knowing i was the luckiest victim of your love
I will leave missing every kiss and touch and all i can no longer have
I will leave but i hope you know i am compelled to
I will leave but i will be devistated as i worshiped you
I will leave though it hurts like mad to be forbidden from your sight
I will leave but your lost reply will kill me when i summon you every night
poem by Ayesha Sartawi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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