Hello, good morning Steemians...
On the young sheet of the almanac early in the year.
March went to paint his story.
Story after story slowly insert the color.
I still keep everything about you...
Began to feel the longing frozen. Enjoy your lips in the memories. That may not be lost, although greeting increasingly silenced.
Not that I was about to forget everything that was lost was taken away from the distance.
That separates my clear eye and your chest.
When togetherness is no longer ours to drink peace.
Subject is never cracked. Still attached to every corner of memory. About the breath of happiness that still smells love you. Which often become the rhyme of the sense of consolation.
Good morning longing.
Good morning Universe March.