Two hours past midday, on the eighth of November, fifty-three years ago, a baby girl came out from her mother’s loving womb. Her cry was a melody inviting the fairies on the balcony.
Two hours past midday, on the eighth of November, fifty-three years ago, a baby girl came out from her mother’s loving womb. Her cry was a melody inviting the fairies on the balcony.
The universe sent her coffers, full of sound reason and deep affection, instilling in her veins love and faith, withstanding all bickerings, surpassing all disruption, and rising above the turbulence.
The universe sent her coffers, full of sound reason and deep affection, instilling in her veins love and faith, withstanding all bickerings, surpassing all disruption, and rising above the turbulence.
Her dainty and wisdom are rooted in the loving and understanding womb of her mother. Her stature and confidence are cradled in her mother’s caring and nurturing arms.
Her dainty and wisdom are rooted in the loving and understanding womb of her mother. Her stature and confidence are cradled in her mother’s caring and nurturing arms.
Bravely emerging, her father gave her a toolbox, the courage to deflect, the space to recollect; though circumstance brings poignance, it never defeats brilliance; it instead leads to indignance.
Bravely emerging, her father gave her a toolbox, the courage to deflect, the space to recollect; though circumstance brings poignance, it never defeats brilliance; it instead leads to indignance.
The tiny essence of her existence brings this gift to all who will take time to make sense. The gift to transcend is her inherent capacity. It is the highest within. It is the gift in her coffers, which with time, fairy godfathers and godmothers fill in.
The tiny essence of her existence brings this gift to all who will take time to make sense. The gift to transcend is her inherent capacity. It is the highest within. It is the gift in her coffers, which with time, fairy godfathers and godmothers fill in.