All grandmothers whisper, their lips move, they brush their hair
they mutter incantations over dead husbands
long forgotten.
...
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all grandmas whisper, they whisper the truth. If only we would listen, a good poem about grandmas
I have gathered beneath rain's gossamer restlessness secrets and terrors of deep deep ponds' loveliness vivid graphical expression!
I have gathered beneath rain's gossamer restlessness secrets and terrors of deep deep ponds' loveliness Beautiful lines that give a tilt to our imagination and herald us into some secret caverns!