Sometimes is wise sometimes is not.
It doesn't matter. Is mostly mine.
And God's. He made it soft and red, and full of love.
This Old Heart will beat one day at a time,
until the end.
©Gloria
Bilingual Blog about poetry, short stories and some random pondering about life, culture and love as I understand it.
She was a " social butterfly" They say... Her days went by Flying from flower to flower Tasting the nectar of life While adorning...
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