With or without
Your last Glance
On my chest.
And My chest
On my hands
Or bouncing back from my chest.
Hands are still holding
Your last lasting glance
As if my they are holding
This Is my beautiful poem
And the only one
I am always proud to keep in my hand.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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9/24/2021 11:20:21 AM # 126.96.36.1999