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Without a single word, They tell their stories— Years spent apart, Yet yearning to meet. Fingers trace memories, Whispers of time gone by, Silent but profound, In their gentle touch, they sigh. They speak of love and loss, Of moments slipped through sand, A timeless conversation, In the language of hands.
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Mar 9, 2025
Mar 9, 2025 at 1:40 AM UTC
The Language of Hands
Without a single word, They tell their stories— Years spent apart, Yet yearning to meet. Fingers trace memories, Whispers of time gone by, Silent but profound, In their gentle touch, they sigh. They speak of love and loss, Of moments slipped through sand, A timeless conversation, In the language of hands.
Written by
M/Pakistan
Mar 9, 2025
Mar 9, 2025 at 1:40 AM UTC
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