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Click hereHe blustered into my world
On a January misty rain
Not quite rain, not quite sleet
And he became my “Kincaid”
That once in a lifetime love
Few people ever know
Looking into my soul to find
That true me hidden away
The woman I was meant to be
Giving himself to my every though
My every desire and want
He read me like an open book
He made me whole
He made me real.
He is my “Kincaid”
The photographer of my soul.
The smiling man in the picture
My children will never know.
This poem was mentioned in today's New Poetry Recommendations in the Poetry Feedback & Discussion forum.<br><br>
http://forum.literotica.com/showpost.php?p=32355102&postcount=2870