April 15, 2017A Poem by Reagan
It's one o'clock in the morning
and I can hear his voice in my head
over and over and over again He speaks to me in a voice so sweet and smooth it commands me to listen His words come out in slow motion I can see his smile His cheek dimples on one side of his face it wrinkles up to his eye so that when he smiles he squints His eyes are the color of the sun hitting an autumn leaf And they look at me like I am the world © 2017 ReaganAuthor's Note
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4 Reviews Added on September 4, 2017 Last Updated on September 8, 2017 |

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