...so here goes
When raspberries whisper make jam, not make love nor drink wine
When winds sing not of freedom but sheets on the line
When the sun squints your eyes into corners where cobwebs take cover
You'll know, that like me, you've begun to turn into your mother
1 comment:
Have only just come across this and love it.
Having known your mother I can really relate to it!
Lynne
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