It. Short poem, white chocolate. It's not my favorite. It is a delicacy, a very rare occurrence. If you blinked at the wrong time, you'd miss it. You show up fully, presenting self in on time. A seat at the table. How can one be so smooth?
It. Short poem, white chocolate. It's not my favorite. It is a delicacy, a very rare occurrence. If you blinked at the wrong time, you'd miss it. You show up fully, presenting self in on time. A seat at the table. How can one be so smooth?