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A Poem Written Long Ago
When my hand brushes your nipple, An electric shock runs between my legs And surprises me there. When my hand glides against The curve of ...
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So here we go, 2025. Many did not come along with us. We persist for now. I admit to a certain amount of melancholy this season. I spent Ch...
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When my hand brushes your nipple, An electric shock runs between my legs And surprises me there. When my hand glides against The curve of ...
The photos from this particular trip (Morocco? Not a mosque in Sacramento?) continue to fascinate me. Is that Steve just outside the door on the right side?
ReplyDeleteLovely image, Tara.
ReplyDelete