As I hit forty. I find I'm a little hoardy. I have holy socks that prey. And a wounded heart that is still as tender as a childs. Lord, help me to be beautiful. Not to hold on to a waistline of 40. Or the image of it to be tiny.
I know it is mine. But, isn't it about time that I give everything I own to you. So here is my little ditty dedicated to the one I love.
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