Waiting |
Waiting for my wife one evening during winter |
| You knock at the door of remembrance while the day declines onto peaks time is anchoring amidst the mountains and fireplace sparkling equal flames diluting light between the squatted thighs up to hands laying joined over the paunch But when your step near this iron gate comes but not stealthy into this plushy silence hinges are snapped off and this big home will burst with joy of cheers within the night |
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