a glass of the sweetest ambrosia
I checked last week, it was still there glowing in the sunlight. A man told me that in September the balustrade will be repainted. It suffers from the affects of the easterly wind and salt from the sea. He assured me that our padlock will remain, be protected while the work is carried out.
Might we find someone to save us, rescue our love? To reignite the flames that soared into the sky on that June evening when, happily, we threw the keys far into the ocean. When we deemed our hearts should intertwine and beat as one.
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