He stares at me, I don’t even know
He’s always there holding my back
His care he never fails to show
I can’t wait to hold his hands again
And tell him that
I love him and never will we ever part again
My name is Dew, I'm not lost, I like to Roam, Tell me to go home
Poetry With A Touch Of Panache
I don't write, I touch without touching.
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Beautiful smiles for life.
Inside the mind of a working photographer
Behind His Camera