The winter returns with your thoughts.
Your rhymes warm my lonely mornings:
Coffee is only a mere excuse.
The rose is, otherwise, pretty safe
in the fold of the nineteenth page.
I remember you like another winter.
The perfume has died over time.
What remains is you, your rhymes!
Your rhymes warm my lonely mornings:
Coffee is only a mere excuse.
The rose is, otherwise, pretty safe
in the fold of the nineteenth page.
I remember you like another winter.
The perfume has died over time.
What remains is you, your rhymes!
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