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‘No,’ she said.

If love were a flower watered by a soul’s pure shower, this flower would only blossom on a truly loving bosom; blest with feelings more tender, thoughts more kind, than for kin or kith. This flower would only be fair to sprout out, sprite-like but real: God’s herb to heal a heart-sick for love.
She said.


Profile photo of Wendo Kenyanito

Wendo Kenyanito

For hope i live. Not because yesterday was full nor because today is fresh. But because tomorrow is fertile. Hope. For hope i live. And hope does not disappoint me.

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