They come to me, open armed sometimes.
I open my arms. They see my hands are empty, but they still kiss me.
It is better if I bring gifts, though. They encrease their love.
And they come to me, open armed.
My grandchildren.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Demasiado lindo, estremecedor.
Gracias!
Cariños,
Post a Comment