He loves me.
He loves me.
He loves me.
He loves me.
He loves me.
He loves me.
He loves me.
He loves me.
He loves me.
He loves me.
He loves me.
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6 comments:
I should note that the title of this poem is a complete lie. Or, as I would prefer, a "poetic conceit".
Hehehehe. This made me smile
A great thought.
I'll think of this "poem" now whenever I see a daisy!
I love this one. I blogged this weekend "Freedom", because the freedom I was feeling was that he loved me, and that nothing could separate me from that love NOT ONE THING
It's a great feeling, Karen!
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