I would rest your weary heart,


Upon, my still strong chest.

I’d listen to your tale,
And be silent every breath.
I’d pick you up,
And hold you tight.
The puddles wouldn’t touch your feet.
No chill would reach,
to give you troubled night.
This Latin heart,
Still hold’s within it fight.


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allets's picture

Strong Picture!

Go on perptually fighting - that's the only way possible. :D slc