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I will ring all the bells For your anniversary I will take out of my pockets Fancy and pretty exotic jewelries.
On a limestone laced hillside, Under a sun burnished Umbrian sky; Like resting peasants, the olives thrive.
You know I’ve realized That somehow falling in love Is the best and worst thing That can ever happen to a person You will feel things you never knew you could feel.
Empty This is the best way I can describe how I feel right now How I feel knowing that it’s over That our adventures are over That the plans we made will never come to fruition
When Choosing Cheese, Consider, please Both Cheddar & Mozzarella Cheese- Best Not To Buy, Gourmet's don't lie.
ℜ𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔖𝔱𝔦𝔠𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔪𝔰 𝔄 𝔤𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔟 𝔒𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔬𝔱𝔱𝔬𝔪 𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔣 𝔒𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔤𝔢 ℑ𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔴𝔢 𝔰𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔢'𝔡 𝔡𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔈𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔨𝔢𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔉𝔢𝔟𝔯𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔶 ℭ𝔶𝔫𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔞𝔴𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔭𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫
Inspired by Michelle The author says, love is for you, love is for me And love is for the birds that sing so sweetly Love is for comely brides as well as bridegrooms
For Kamela There’s no wife like the capable wife you prove to be day after day No other young lady has stronger love than your gracious love
chains clink, wood creaks. the birds surrounding us sing their sweet song, perfectly in tune with the sound of your voice.
My life has been on hold for so long I didn’t even realise No progress has become the new norm While I sit here and wait for you to love me Like once upon a time when we were both so young
Grapevive Wine flowing like blood Aromatic and crisp A decanting of the spirit Drunken The cult Endless parties Women sway fluidly Beats pounding through the scene Festal
My dear Ampelos, To him we say adios. Lost in the tragic days of yesteryear— A proud boy with no fear. He hitched a ride on a wild bull, Set the tides of faith on the pull.
My Paris begins with Those early days As a conscious flâneur; I recall the couple On the Metro, When I was still innocent Of its labyrinthine complexities;
Yesterday for my birthday, I started off with a bottle of wine... I took the train into town... I had half a bitter at the Café de Piaf in Waterloo... I went to work
Poetry makes me want to drink wine.Wine makes me want to write poetry. Maybe it's because the assembly of wordsstillbond together, when the mind is in shambles.
Did you finally find /your heart— /so vivid and crisp /when last we saw it? /Is it a red wine now, /found at room temperature /in your creaking cellar /where you store the things /you’re afraid to face at night?
You are what you eat, but for her it's what she drinks. Coffee in the A.M. to keep her awake, wine in the P.M. to put her to sleep.
I am fragile, Like a glass Of wine. One encounter And you can tip Me over. Out spills my pain And emotions That could have Helped you ease your pain, But you can't put me
Hatred towards one another is like drinking a glass of wine with your loved one. But that's not your loved one. You break the glasses and bottles so angrily enough to say I love you.
Just keep my mind inside my head We’ll be us both inside my bed I’ve got to keep my life instead Of staying in my lonely head
Do you want some wine? It's served with sex appea I wil ake you squeal!
The cellar is quite, cool, dry.
I wish I could see you
"A good wine mellows as it ages" is what my dad says in reaction to my passion. I don't want to here this because my feelings are real
She will fill me with glee, when she finally decides to come to California with me. I have always dreamed of traversing the wine country, though I have never been, so when, when, when?