TheFalconsLove
The mother and the father of my love is only just the small as her. They fly together it is plain beauty just to see them move as one when he goes a little too far up she swoops up to catch him up. The young one eye call baby sometimes eye just call her falcon she sits up on the pole and turns her eye to eat me with her want she loves. She has bonded with the eye could have her on a glove or shoulder strap but no she has her freedom in her need she seems to eat me with her gaze she watches me just like a hawk. When she manages her time to be there when eye get home which thing happens not as often as eye want she seems to flutter her wings in a little falcon dance and is her way of greeting me with love. Then she flies up and out of sight to peer at me from hiding place she loves to turn her head from side to side just like a mourning dove in love. She speaks as one who knoes her abilities making throes of attitudes of love. The Falcons Love.
The mother and the father of my love is only just the small as her. They fly together it is plain beauty just to see them move as one when he goes a little too far up she swoops up to catch him up. The young one eye call baby sometimes eye just call her falcon she sits up on the pole and turns her eye to eat me with her want she loves. She has bonded with the eye could have her on a glove or shoulder strap but no she has her freedom in her need she seems to eat me with her gaze she watches me just like a hawk. When she manages her time to be there when eye get home which thing happens not as often as eye want she seems to flutter her wings in a little falcon dance and is her way of greeting me with love. Then she flies up and out of sight to peer at me from hiding place she loves to turn her head from side to side just like a mourning dove in love. She speaks as one who knoes her abilities making throes of attitudes of love. The Falcons Love.
No comments:
Post a Comment