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    December 16

    Saturday morning

    My hoildays started so good, that I wrote a poem for my lovely wife:
     
     
    Indira is my house wife
    She cooks me every morning
    I've never seen in all my life
    More beaty than she's scoring
     
    The deepest thought can break apart
    When morning sun in shining...
    Or when Indira comes, my heart
    Is beating like a lightning!
    6:52 AM | Blog it

    Comments (2)

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    Picture of Anonymous
    nowier wrote:
    so nice words :)
    July 8
    Raynewrote:
    nice.........<3
    hmmm.....simple but sweet..
    she cooks goOOd, i bet!!!
    June 24

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