She hadn't given me birth from her womb; but could still irrefutably gauge the profound sadness enshrouding my countenance; by just ethereally glimpsing at my shielding eyelashes,
She hadn't given me birth from her womb; but could still irrefutably prognosticate the hunger in my stomach; by just sighting me restlessly gnawing at my bohemian nails,
...
Read full text