I call her my love: my honey, my sweet.
Could she be the one? Not answering me.
I call her sultana: the bold and the brave.
Like skin of banana, she may slip way.
I call her my beauty: so smart and so wise.
How grateful I am to have been by her side.
I call her no more, but know she’s a friend.
No greater delight than the day that we met.
…
Papa — linktr.ee/papajams
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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