river runs deep,
a paper cut will hurt,
a cold razon agaist the skin,
first thing in the moring,
the air we breath can be fresh,
as the montain tops,
covered with snow,
puddles are fun,
when we were kids,
pick and mix,
penny sweets from the corner shop,
so why? does love,
sometimes fall apart,
when we work so hard,
to keep the spark,
alive
a memory all blokes can remember, sweets and razors, in the morning so cold, good write
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
sweetie sweetie women are just the same nice write, always from the heart