The sun-yellow house seems smaller, somehow
seeing it now, with much older eyes...
The street seems narrower, the trees are taller..
Where once open fields spanned both sides of the road
they are building new structures, and fences have bloomed
The neighboring orchards have all but disappeared
But somehow we knew the house would still be there....
Strangely distant, ...yet, still much is the same
There is a newer red tricycle
on the smooth flagstone path
one that we laid on a hot summer day...
in front of this house that lies at the bend
at the end of the road, where the sycamore grew...
As sudden as wind, thirty years fades away, lost in the moment of this crisp autumn day
And quickly alive, memories rise, becoming again the springtime of lives.....
...our first Christmas trees,..and first anniversaries...
...a place where I cried long into the night, the child in me grieving when mother had died...
..then long, starry nights, lost in the moonlight,
counting my blessings, and holding my babies
Yes....it is all captured there, in the small yellow house
It's funny, I know, but I'm glad they have kept the yellow...
And it still wears the trace of sun, and crisp-white shutters...
The little yellow house, with a flagstone pathway that we laid
that sits beyond the bend, where the old sycamore grew...
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009
A child of four suffers recurring dreams,
disturbing parents and siblings with screams.
When she awoke, always sore in one knee;
next to a birthmark, it throbbed painfully.
Night after night she feared going to bed.
What caused these nightmares that raged in her head?
Even when grown, the torment persisted,
so a therapist’s aid she enlisted.
“Hypnosis,” said he, “might offer some clues.
Why not try it? You’ve just bad dreams to lose.”
Once under, he guided her to a room --
here people’s lifetimes in books were entombed.
“Find one that is yours,” her counselor said.
Quickly she did, but before it was read,
she felt an ache, saw just a faint title.
The words, she thought, said “Alister Bridle.”
The hypnotic trance now suddenly broke;
puzzling questions “Mr. Bridle” evoked.
For many years she thought that was her name;
perhaps a past life had been filled with pain.
Who was this man? She simply had to know!
Seasons passed, summer suns made way for snow.
In Florida now, 1998,
she thought all the nightmares she had escaped.
But strange dreams always catch us by surprise --
when the lights grow dim, our minds fantasize.
Cloaked in velvet, she left her parents’ farm,
stealing away on a late autumn morn’.
To meet her love, she climbed on the carriage,
knowing her folks would forbid their marriage.
Warm-hued leaves carpeted the hillside road,
and her pulse beat fast; she’d soon join her beau.
She thought only of him; joy cast its smile,
but that’s when he called, “Alice, the bridle!”
The leather band broke and wrapped ‘round her knee.
To the ground she was pulled; her horse ran free.
She met death, but past-life dreams recycle,
and she’d never been “Alister Bridle.”
*Based on real events I experienced.
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2009
I called to the winds of autumn
As they wrapped up the dying year;
"Oh stay for a moment and tell me
Of answers I need to hear".
Who is the rival of prudence
Who is the merchant of crime
Who closes the eyes of beauty
And steals the hours of time?
Who brings the winter to age
From the springs of the fountain of youth
Who is the companion of sorrow
And destroys the justice of truth?
Who's the apprentice of Satan
The Prince of the Power of Air
Whose appetite is transgression
With more than enough to share?
Who weakens the power of the great
Who slaughters the wisdom of wise
Who brings the honest and gracious
To depths that others despise?
The winds of autumn now answered
With a voice like a phantom call
"It's an evil afflicting so many
Who drown in the drink alcohol."
This is the spell of the devil
Who casts his net from hell
An addiction with power to destroy
Gathering all who are caught in its spell
For his net will gather the unwary
To beguile lost souls with his breath;
This is the destruction of lost dreams
That perish in the arms of death
Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2012
Oh I am but a simple leaf
withering within the gutter
one summer of bliss
now! Just an autumn flutter.
For some; destine to fall
upon stony ground, a part
of life’s infernal gyration.
Yet for those that fall
within your reach, to live
on within your soul!
While limbs that stretch
towards the solstice, create
vivacious veins as channels of hope,
a pledge of foliation continues
to endure what spring has
furnished; autumn expires.
Yes! If we can but learn
from nature’s complex simplicity,
that life be of a cycle
from the seed we are conceived,
then let spring be my beginning
winter my exultant eve!
Let our two cultures
merge as one, the
to become the sustenance;
our transfusion the
Let us breathe the
fragrance of born again;
let each slender limb,
stout body bear our
tenaciousness, each lyrical
leaf our life’s blood.
Let us mollycoddle each
precious tear that falls from a
angry sky; dance gracefully
upon the wind, embrace
on moonless nights, bathe
in summer madness.
Let us hear the bluebell call,
the daffodil pray, the apple
blossom bear witness; the
clamour of the field mouse
the pitapat of the butterfly
the silence of lovers in love.
Let us be sanctuary to the
symbolic songstress, scuttling
squirrel, vulgar urchin;
a fortress for the warrior
a haven for the pacifist
an inspiration for the poet!
The call of springtime
we will invoke,
we will gladly choke;
“This! Obliging old oak.”
Copyright Harry J Horsman 2000
Copyright © harry horsman | Year Posted 2010
Painting sky before I was born,
Draping my grave in leaf and acorn.
Sponsor: Rick Parise
Copyright © rob carmack | Year Posted 2014
I need more lives for me to live
In this universe of beauty;
I plan more days to find new ways
Of doing freedom's duty.
I need not more joy than this
For I am life's dear lover;
And when I wage to turn the page
I'd never want another.
The glorious pledge of sunny Spring
With sweet June coming after;
Bring autumn sighs and summers cries
Lost in winter's laughter.
With virgin moons and scorching noon’s
And stars of a thousand nights;
I'd need no heaven if love be given
With all its sweet delights.
There are many splendors for the eye
And such music for the ear;
The mind would reel with all to feel
And see to touch and hear.
There's many ways to spend the days
And more to do what's kind;
For bread now cast on waters past
Returns again I find.
There are such gifted souls to know
And many more to learn;
While a promise rests in earth's warm breast
And unknown stars still burn.
In six days God made all the earth
The bible is known to say;
Six lives I need to plant a seed
Of love with one for each dear day.
But sad if love should fly away
Or hide his face from me;
Six lives aren’t much if I had such
But one’s all that need be.
With unhappy May and sorry June
Sad dawns and weary night;
A sorry world through space was hurled
When love had lost her light.
Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2011
of autumns’ sweet refrain-
That break beneath
a weight too much
I tread in solitude
and mourning there-
Along a path
of maple trees
and scented air-
I recall the life
that we once shared-
the twilight hours
the beauty of it all-
that softly falls-
In loving memory of:
My Father - Harold George
Oct 27, 1927 - August 11, 2003
Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2007
. ‘Violin’ was written on a soft dark velvet night,
As I drifted - in the dreams - of the flickering - candle light;
Ne’er pre-planned - nor pondered - nor was she - pre-conceived,
She came from deep within me, appearing on the screen,
As did my favorite poem - my darling ‘Cannon Lee’.
‘The Love of a Gentlemen’ - and ‘Where the Heart Resides,’
Came from treasured memories - I tried to keep alive;
With words - chosen carefully - to create solidity,
I brought them back to life - to live eternally,
In vivid hues - more beautiful - than all the autumn leaves.
Others - fell like drops of dew - from flying fingertips,
That raced across the keyboard - in hopes they wouldn’t miss,
The chance to share the beauty - my eyes now fell upon,
Through the kitchen window - across the river - and beyond,
Where fields of liquid diamonds - glistened in the early dawn.
Others came in metaphors - disguising secrets held;
To painful in reality - for me to ever tell.
‘The Rose and the Thorn’ - poured herself upon the page,
A sonnet of over-whelming grief - rising up from hidden rage,
Releasing me forever - from my gilded cage.
These poems I write - come day come night,
Come candle or come neon light,
Come wind, come rain, come joy, come pain,
They are the life - the Great Creator - breathed in me;
They are my breath!
They are my poetry!
Author: Elaine George
Written: January 13th, 2010
Inspired by: Deborah Guzzi's contest 'How Do You do It - How do you write your poems'?
Authors Note: This poem was written on route to Bath, North Carolina via Ferry
crossing. It was written on a note-pad from the' Hampton Inn' and transferred
to my lap-top after returning to Swansborro.
Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2010
What the Quack!
I dont want my poems in Poem Zoo!
Copyright © Ruben O. | Year Posted 2012
I sit, with deep contentment, by the window
And watching the young evergreen out-shadowed
The oak tree, where love once etched on it, I sowed
My time quietly slipped into the picture
Between my only son and his firstborn son
Between the past, the present, and the future
I have the feelings, but no words are spoken
When the words are spoken, my own feelings gone
Hidden for life, in my sagging rocking chair
I felt the late afternoon cold breeze, touching
White-bearded face, with the autumn scent tingling
While the golden sun has faded, into gray
I saw the charmed naked ladies, still smiling
In a bright purplish pink, for there are no snows
Soon, the land will be white, when tomorrow bows
As I eagerly wait for December sky
To glow, with sensational firecrackers’ lights
In my arms, my grandson awaken from sleep
No words spoken, but, has the smile on his face
In him I saw myself, in my father’s arm
Now I know, December’s coming, to give grace
Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2006
In winter’s white, as angels cry
for early spring to warm the wind,
to bring to life with gentle sigh,
in love, the bitter frost has thinned.
For early spring to warm the wind,
at Valentine’s romantic calls,
in love, the bitter frost has thinned,
where dancers twirl amid stone walls.
At Valentine’s romantic calls,
rebirth of nature’s light divine,
where dancers twirl amid stone walls,
and blossoms pastel shades recline.
Rebirth of nature’s light divine,
when day equals the hours of night,
and blossoms pastel shades recline,
to hail the queen of May in light.
When day equals the hours of night,
a summer’s sun will come to play,
to hail the queen of May in light,
we chant and sing along the way.
A summer’s sun will come to play,
so life can grow as gods decreed,
we chant and sing along the way,
with warmth and light our hunger feed.
So life can grow as gods decreed,
the rays of sun on seeds we’ve sown,
with warmth and light our hunger feed,
the wealth of harvest is our own.
The rays of sun on seeds we’ve sown,
in autumn breeze that chills the heat,
the wealth of harvest is our own,
as gold and red belies our feet.
In autumn breeze that chills the heat,
a year that ends with blessed Samhain,
as gold and red belies our feet,
the call of Ancient’s name to reign.
A year that ends with blessed Samhain,
to bring to life with gentle sigh,
the call of Ancient’s name to reign,
in winter’s white, as angels cry.
Copyright © Jemmy Farmer | Year Posted 2009
As the pastel moon rises across the midnight blue
a lone wolf’s dark silhouette appears into view
his boast is known from Cowboy to prairie dog
fore this is the night chill that turns to morning fog
the early dawn is thawed by a piping hot cup o’ Joe
No time to waste, just a few days brings first snow
Such is the Cowboy’s life on the cattle drive
Copyright © Warner Baxter | Year Posted 2014
Here I lie beside you
My heart goes thump.thump.thump.
My soul dances inside you
Reveling in the texture of your own.
Electric and flowing
The currents of our love
Glow like neon lights
Illuminating the hope in my eyes.
Though we're not moving
I feel so incredibly alive
Invincible to my past
Untouchable by all who lack
That gentle touch of when
You lean in and brush my face
Your lips grazing my skin
Softer than a butterfly.
And then you gaze into my eyes
I fall into your depths
Twirling like the autumn leaves
Melting into your smile
Your soul reminiscent of summer.
You pull me into your arms
And for a moment I'm lost
Breathless and in awe
Staring in the face of pure exquisite love
And there you are - holding it
Glowing in the moonlight of my stare.
My heart beats - its drum pounding away
Echoing a song thats lost its words
I touch your cheek and smile
My hands cant stay away
My lips s l o w l y, draw near yours
Hovering, and then -
Part, a soft warmth against them.
My eye lids pulling shut
Dragging me into a silent heaven
I pull away - and what seemed millennia
Lasted only a moment, a second in time
But this is our love
This is what you do to me
You make me invincible and fragile
Lost forever in a beautiful reverie.
Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2013
it’s always august’s end
that bothers me the most
i feel that brush of cool air
press against me
like a kiss on dead lips
the trees are now painted
a sunset’s reflection
but all i see is red
in summer’s end
the leaves dance gracefully
beneath the winds
one last time
before they fall
the trees will soon stand
blank of life
like you and you and you
and my mind
as i remember
as i watched them
fall from life
amongst summer’s end
Copyright © Sandra Adams | Year Posted 2013
Saint Blackheart walks the Autumn streets and smiles with diamond eyes;
She's well-aware of what you think, but listens to your lies.
Confess your deepest fantasies or never look her way --
She's free with random kindness, though she won't have much to say.
Saint Blackheart seeks the shadows for the secrets they impart.
Her life's a patchwork puzzle made with jagged shards of art --
Impressionistic paintings on a canvas dipped in red;
She dances like a demon for the angels in her head.
Saint Blackheart loves the twilight and the elemental rain;
She'll stand and watch you suffer, yet she senses all your pain.
A soft, Franciscan echo making up a primal scream
Can hurtle from her crimson lips and dart from dream to dream.
Saint Blackheart lives in solitude among the ancient trees --
You'll find her there within the mist, but never on her knees.
Her hands will offer nothing which is not her own to give;
And though you wish to die in peace, she may just let you live.
Saint Blackheart will not weep with you or wipe away your tears,
Yet she may catch their crystal hue and treasure it for years.
She'll lay a little flower on a long-forgotten grave --
A tribute to the tortured soul she never tried to save.
Copyright © M. Teresa Blaylock | Year Posted 2007
Trees shake old cobwebs from their heads
A kaleidoscopic parade of colors tumbles down
Pretty reds and yellows, parasol shapes
Parachute softly and collect in mounds
Falling leaves that drift and cross our paths
Brought on by climates cooler winds
Leave the trees in all their majesty
To become the magic of the season
Created on 9/03/14 for Autumn Colors poetry contest
Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014
I do not know?
The crispen lips of autumn
when pumpkin leaflets fill the air
and sing-ed wood is smoking bare is freedom.
It's the crackle 'neath your bundled feet
and scarves tied loose and apple pinched cheeks
and majesty you'll never reach from a window.
It's linking arms with your closest friend
and letting the warming sun pretend it's working.
It's chipmunks still and frozen there
beneath the tree, nuts everywhere
a glint in their eyes and they're back in their lair
cheeks popped full of magic.
This kiss is the glory of your love's embrace
lying there you're face to face 'till slumber
'Till the big goodnight, 'till the bright snow light,
Copyright © Tatyana Carney | Year Posted 2005
I do not know?
I was visited by ghosts again, last night,
But they were not the ghoulish kind.
These ghosts were friendly phantoms,
From the sunshine meadows of my mind.
First, came the Ghost of Childhood
From his home, so far away.
He took me back to green fields,
Where I used to run and play.
Some dark memories live there,
They are always near, you see.
But Ghost of Childhood was so bright,
That they were forced to flee.
Then, there came the Ghost of Youth,
From somewhere up above.
He took me back to summer nights
Of soft ice cream, and puppy love.
But here, were painful memories
Of a tender, autumn day,
But when they saw the Ghost of Youth,
They quietly slipped away.
At last, I met the Ghost of Years,
And he seemed old and wise;
I saw the love of long lost friends
Glowing warmly in his eyes.
Sweet memories of departed souls
Prepared my heart to weep,
But Ghost of Years smiled down on me,
And lulled me back to sleep.
My guardian ghosts surround me,
And shield me with their might,
When bitter memories come around
To haunt me in the night.
Copyright © William Robinson | Year Posted 2006
Springing and bounding like a lamb
Playfully, gamboling over the ground.
Rumbles of thunder assaulting the ear
Incessant lightning, earth trembling in fear.
Nature is fickle, and inscrutably wild,
Glowing with vigor--an unruly child.
Shimmering heat waves swim and rise,
Under the blazing, noonday skies.
Mercury rising, seeking the sky.
My vision is bleary--sweat in my eyes.
Everyone wondering, “When will it end?”
Remembering winter--bring it again.
Autumn colors flaming bright
Under azure autumn light.
Tender hearts holding fast
Untold feelings from the past.
Mellow, yellow, harvest moons,
Night time bonfires, off-key tunes.
White snow blanketing fallen leaves,
Icicles forming on dripping eaves.
North wind moaning through the trees,
Temperature falling below the knees.
Eagerly waiting for robins to sing,
Readily awaiting arrival of spring.
Copyright © William Robinson | Year Posted 2006
The sun will rise,the sun will set,
no more love will life beget;
The day will break,the moon to rise,
no more love,as this life dies;
The Summer heat,or Winter cold,
no more love will this life hold;
The Autumn fall,and Springtime green,
no more again,will love be seen;
The wheat will shoot,the grass will grow,
no more again sweet love to know;
The grape will ripen on the vine
no more,no more will love be mine.
inspired after reading an essay by Nicholas Ferrar(1592-1637) the English ascetic of the Little
Gidding community(was also TS Eliot's inspiration foth the last of his Four Quartets).
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2010
Scrumptious sight of prairies and grass
Ardent beaming of flower buds and buzzing bees
Leafless coils, branches of trees become alive
Hastening! Arousing everyone's joy and vive
Everyone happy on cheerful springtime!
A cotillion trips and chirps of jolly birds
From some distance, I have started to heard
Fantastic shun and kisses of pretty butterflies
Tempting all species of flora and fauna to thrive
Welcoming, beckoning the heat of summertime!
First crisp of breeze, creating dew in morning
Canopy of red and orange leaves from branches, enchanting!
Turning the world into a canvass of nature's brush
Unnoticeable, such romantic dash making anyone blush
Revel, embrace the sweet amorous season of autumn!
Solid chilling raindrops of snowflakes
Giving warning: careful during breaks
Covering branches, bringing icy cold aches
Yet, skiing an exhilarating cool escape
Delight in the coolness ambiance of winter!
CONTEST: MEMORIES ON BRANCHES
SPONSOR: GAIL ANGEL DOYLE
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Fraser | Year Posted 2014
When autumn comes to drop it's leaves.
Unreconciled, the branches greive.
To enter winter's long goodbye.
Awaiting spring, again to sigh.
Amidst the heat of summer's sun.
The planted seed will soon be done.
Only the rain of heavens love.
Can help the plant rise up above.
The seasons we all have to live.
Are waisted if we don't forgive.
A heart that's full of pain and sorrow.
Requires hope to meet tomorrow.
When someone needs a helping hand.
It's nice when they can join the band.
To know that they can sing along.
To harmonize in life's long song.
Copyright © robert johnson | Year Posted 2012
I stand here and watch the changing of seasons,
a summer of winters, an autumn of springs,
I stand here in thought, not knowing the reasons,
to the meaning of life, how the caged bird still sings.
I stand here and watch as the years pass me by,
regrets of my past, what my life might have been,
I stand here and muse over one butterfly,
freed from the prison it had put itself in.
I stand here and watch as the dark turns to day,
the first glimpse of sunrise, a shimmer of light,
I stand here and wonder where clouds go to play
would they take me with them when day turns to night?
I stand here on guard while my inner self dreams,
of a world free of hurting, a life blank of stain,
I stand here and listen while my inner self screams,
with fear in his eyes and a soul filled with pain.
I stand here alone, memories by my side,
a flood of emotions, bittersweet in my mind,
I stand here unknown with the tears I have cried,
searching for answers in a world where I'm blind.
Copyright © Curt Mongold | Year Posted 2008
As spring brings life to all that sleep
Spirit, body and mind renew
Joy reflects in bursts of blossoms
Heralding new birth to God’s creation
As man and nature journey as one
In a dance of celebration
Hope reborn in all that live
As the summer of life screeches by
Visitors invited, welcome to share
Love, laughter, living and dying
Soon comes bittersweet joy of liberation
Knocking, bearing gift of freedom
As mountains rise along the way
As the autumn of life drifts in
The lights of my eyes will grow dim
Yet the hummingbird still sings
Joy of my vision, my rock
Through light of day or darkest night
Like a child I trust, I sleep
As the winter of life arrives
When my tresses turn white as snow
With the sound of my voice just a whisper
Though shallow breath, my prayers ascend
To the joy of my salvation
Just beyond invisible gates
I will in quiet adoration kneel
Note: Written 9/17/09
By Audrey Carey
Entry for Constance La France's "Why Oh Why" Contest
Copyright © Annalise a.k.a. Audrey Haick | Year Posted 2009
Dearest Autumn of glory and rage
of windswept memory
still alive on the page
I ponder and dream
of love once held
the dusty book
alone on the shelve
If only to rekindle
a fire of orange glow
a lifetime of promise
of love I bestow
Each leaf of gold fire
Copyright © Rick Parise | Year Posted 2012
A wisp of white cloud
On a breeze, that cools the land
Autumn is soon here
Copyright © jeanine dejesus | Year Posted 2007
My heart is the same full of love
My house that shelters it full of pain
But it's autumn in my life, Dove
The hair of gray and wrinkles reign
I set the table full of food
For the family to dine fun times
But it is autumn in my life
When changes prepare for winter
I'm not sure I'll know winter now
For I have not experienced it
But it's autumn in my life somehow
Where beauty glows bright from the depths
Producing leaves of many hues
Love the autumn of my life, Dove
Now all that's left winter's white snow
I think that when winter comes cold
Plants freeze if left out in weather
They will need a warmer place inside
But since it is just autumn now
There's time to prepare room somehow
I still watch the birds from window
They have not all gone away love
But it's autumn in my life now
Soon most will be gone for winter
Winter soon will approach with cold
Seemingly death of the roses
But it's autumn in my life my bold
There are few thoughts of approaching winter
But when winter comes my way
The body rest to rise another spring
Now it's autumn in my life this day
On another day I'll be called by trumpet away
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2010
My autumn wine; white winter rose
Please tell me how your garden grows?
I’ve lost my touch, I feared as much
You are fragile and it shows
Can I still call upon you?
With no words ever spoken to you?
And would you come to me?
Could you hear me in a dream?
Would you “sense” me if I came close,
But not in sight of you eyes?
Would you tempt me if giving up hope
Could cleanse me of all the lies?
I survive through a disguise
Designed to hide my immortal light
You will never see it
For I am a chameleon
Crawling through the ancient garden
The (other) not known as Eden
For it has no name to keep it safe
Until light shines on this darkened place
“April showers bring May flowers”
And so your flower has not yet soured
You still have the power to reverse your desires
My white winter rose, will you grow any higher?
Prosper or wither
The choice is now yours
Bound or severed
I’ve done all I could
Copyright © Jackie Bosworth | Year Posted 2009
Leaves of rust do bounce within the brisk wind
As trees release them from whence they ascend
The frigid air blows down the lane of leaves
Orange charms lay about where we all believe
The sun sits low barely over the drive
Straw blends with the grass as fall comes alive
The crispness of each day flaunts us with pride
Colors of autumn describes the outside
Trees are nearing their midnight life cycle
Almost bare with few leaves to recycle
Crops are near the height of sowing prowess
Yellow stalks surround the farmhouse fortress
The season does explain the cool weather
It’s the most beautiful time of the year
Copyright © Russell Sivey | Year Posted 2013
It was the kind of day I had always dreamed of,
a source of energy was emitted by the sun,
the tiny leaves dancing like they were in love,
green, red, yellow and orange...I had to pick just one.
My arms wide open towards the rustling breeze,
my smile upright inhaling the heavenly atmosphere,
clouds so evolved into shapes I'd never seen,
startled I thought, “I think I'll pick the one right here.”
Not the red one....not even the orange caught my eye,
and the yellow seemed too rough around the edges,
but the green leaf looked lonely so I gave it a try,
For it was buried so deep in my front yard hedges.
It was not part of a foliage but buried under a rock,
eight sharp points creating it's own special star,
deepest kelly green seen from any tree on the block,
so I scooped it up gently and tucked it in my scarf.
Walking home I wondered why I chose a leaf so plain,
after all, there are plenty of colors during Autumn,
but I was looking for something that wouldn't complain,
and something to alleviate my mid-life boredom.
See, I am that green leaf that doesn't need to stand out,
I'm perfectly content being consistent and clear headed,
some people may not understand what I'm talking about,
being such a big part if this world, stay true and connected.
I pray I stay this way and keep walking down nature's path,
the exact way God had intended before I was born,
to be honest, sincere and carry on my own happy laugh,
for I'll always have my little green leaf to keep me warm.
Written By: Laura Loo
Date Written: January 14, 2016
Copyright © Laura Loo | Year Posted 2016