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Gwen Whitmoore
Poems
Apr 2013
the touch.
the
touch
,
taken for granted
time passes
unknowingly forgotten...
...unknowingly deprived.
then, out of nowhere,
it happens
and it all comes rushing back.
my pupils dilate
released from an eternity
of what I thought was
finality.
god--
...you feel so
good
.
Written by
Gwen Whitmoore
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