a poem for Dyoom
I want our babies to swing
on your curls
I want your hands around
my neck
I want you to be the last thing
that i see
In my final moments you must surround
Me-Zaniman
I want
a poem for Dyoom
I want our babies to swing
on your curls
I want your hands around
my neck
I want you to be the last thing
that i see
In my final moments you must surround
Me-Zaniman