For Mak and Bapak
When I sit and think of my childhood, I think of all the yesteryears as your only daughter. Of all the bad and good times, and of all the nursery rhymes. You raised me up, you watched me bloom. Thank you and I love you, they never seem enough to do. All the dreams you prayed I'd be, are all the things I am and would be.
1 Comments:
tagged! i was here, diy!
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home