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Whatever joys come our way, The road ahead will be a hard one. Your kinship though is precious, Like sweet molasses, Fuel for my journey. Sometimes returning, Battered and bruised I admit, My basket full of Fresh hewn promises, Chiselled out and polished in hope. And with all my dreams too Of what could come true, Of what my labours long to proffer you. You know I give you my love, as best I can. Together we live to the point of tears, I wouldn't want it any other way.
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Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 4:00 PM UTC
Whatever joys
Whatever joys come our way, The road ahead will be a hard one. Your kinship though is precious, Like sweet molasses, Fuel for my journey. Sometimes returning, Battered and bruised I admit, My basket full of Fresh hewn promises, Chiselled out and polished in hope. And with all my dreams too Of what could come true, Of what my labours long to proffer you. You know I give you my love, as best I can. Together we live to the point of tears, I wouldn't want it any other way.
scott-hastie
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Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 4:00 PM UTC
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