You swirl around my poems to enter old nest. I do not know how to pray. ... Read full text
Every December snow becomes a shroud. Intensity in the emotions flowing through the poem is simply touching. Thanks for sharing.10 points.
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8/22/2025 10:17:08 PM # 1.0.0
Every December snow becomes a shroud. Intensity in the emotions flowing through the poem is simply touching. Thanks for sharing.10 points.