Catrin HuitsonWhy do I think of you, everydayI wake up, painting you with my thoughtsApr 11, 2020Apr 11, 2020
Catrin HuitsonHe said I didn’t Look at him the same,I’d had this smile, pure and overcome.Mar 25, 2020Mar 25, 2020
Catrin HuitsonAlone In the breeze I standEven wishing a woodchuck with his axe would comeMar 24, 2020Mar 24, 2020
Catrin HuitsonCan I miss you more?The memory still sore; you burn in my chest.Mar 24, 2020Mar 24, 2020