Her

8 3 0
                                    

I found her, all alone, with the dust embraced her so dearly

Everyone thought she would never be taken, never be loved

But then there I was, stood before her, look at her

I took her by the hand, I took her home with me

I take her, I hug her, I kiss her, I cherish her, I love her.

.
.
.
.
.

She and Her Beauty : A Poetry Collection by Benedetta GiavaWhere stories live. Discover now