© Pat Ramos

Helen, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicean barks of yore,
That gently, o’er a perfumed sea,
The weary, way-worn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.
To Helen by Edgar Allan Poe

I wish I could savor the first blush of young love over and over again.

Model: Ukushu Khrystyna

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