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My life In The African Teapot. Until we go home, hearts are tender with longing,. There is a difference between living and truly belonging. Until we go home, passion cowers away, shy. Memories locked up in a treasury since our tearful goodbye. Until we return, we envision the warmth of the savannah,. Sun touching our skin in the most unsubtle manner. Brushed as if with a broom, dry, golden grass,. Swept across the land, almighty and vast.
Mes poemes, mes idées mes amies. Un 226 et dernier narticle. Please enter the sequence of characters in the field below.
You can find Toni, who suggested this word, on WordPress.
Pour montré cmb notr amour esst grand! Have fun a vous tous. Please enter the sequence of characters in the field below. Please enter the sequence of characters in the field below.