A Haiku on age 17:
Seventeen means sleep
Until one-thirty pm
What is wrong with me?
Remember Christmas when I was bestowed with the loveliest gifts? Well now everyone's out done themselves and more dances were done and more tears were close to being shed.
A gift for picnics.
A gift for good deeds.
A gift my collections of teacups and plants.
A gift for my future home called Anthropologie.
A gift for car rides.
A gift for my need for concerts.
Guys in case you couldn't tell, my love language is gifts, and I have never felt more loved.
|^^The amazing window display at Anthropologie SLC|
What's your love language??