Quotes 2

Quotes

I weep in the silence of my
conscious,
I cry in the midts- loneliness of my
humble heart

♥

A weaver rest his wings, adorns
his nest like gifts, his soul is a drifted blessing
to the grands of earth, his hymns invates our
thoughts with grateful joy of bliss

poem by Elenushka Toledo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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