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Poetry
Top voted Poetry
#376421voted by our readers
By Anonymous
His fingers strike each key of my heart and tis’ I know he plays the rhythm of my heart. “A hopeful from Julliard?” I begin to question, for he has such talent at...
His fingers strike each key of my heart and tis’ I know he plays the rhythm of my heart. “A hopeful from Julliard?” I begin to question, for he has such talent at...