Don't aim for me when I'm gone, when all there's left are memories of old songs I sung; don't aim with roses or with a gun, when all there's left are memories of the tears and fun... The birds have migrated to the West my love, each and every empty nest now boasts of only… Continue reading OLD SONGS
Tag: Seasons
Ishaism – September
And so, the long awaited Spring, sent word of its coming...on those leafy messengers of the Fall... © Isha Garg
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