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Apr 2020
What are fingers, anyway
What gentle touch is missed
On any given anguished day
When lips cannot be kissed

What are hands for, anyway
If not for us to lend
To hold each other everyday
For strangers we befriend

What's a dream for, anyway
What nightmares must we reap
Till comes the morning of the day
We rise from peaceful sleep
Written by
Scott Jurewicz
72
     Fawn, kate and hecate
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