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Could we with ink the ocean fill, And were the skies of parchment made, Were every stalk on earth a quill, And every man a scribe by trade, To write the love of God above, Would drain the ocean dry. Nor could the scroll contain the whole, Though stretched from sky to sky.
2 comments:
I like her sleeping position. I would be stiff for a week if I tried that! Thank you for posting pictures!
Uncle Beau is doing steps okay but you can tell he is not back to his old self yet.
Cuuuuute!
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