My very own love story.
Field of Flowers
In the middle of a field
Where the sky is clear
With smells of ginger on the breeze
I sit, picking pretty white flowers.
And with each flower that I pick,
I ask it the same question.
"Does he love me,
Or does he not?"
But in all that field of pretty white flowers,
Where the sky is clear
With smells of ginger on the breeze,
All of the flowers
Had only two petals.
Comments?
:: Inspiration ::
A guild of artists and writers, who love to get together and show their artwork : ]
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