Tuesday, February 20, 2007

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:

Blogger phish said...

tagged! i was here, diy!

10:06 PM  

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