this is a small happy poem written in the long nights full with thoughts and memories. this story was inspired by one of these dreamy memories about what once a silly boy told me.
It's yet another MajorSeventh. Hop on the big shoulders and look ... Lastest poems are always posted last in my collections.
Winter. So, expect sparse gardens, late autumn and wintry countryside, wry philosophy and humour, tenderness towards little beasties, meanness towards a particular ex, and whatever sunlight falls his way.
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Oh, and there are no similar stories.