In days of old, on fields of green, A knight would ride, with armor sheen. His sword held high, his heart sincere, Chivalry's flame, forever near.
By Up Upshur2 months ago in Poets
Love is a rose, a delicate flower Its beauty bright, its power untold A symphony of joy in every hour A feeling that never grows old
As the Eskimo walks through the snow so wide, Leaving behind a path, a trail to guide, A canvas of white, unmarked and pure,
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