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Ottar
Poems
Sep 2013
Gifts
His voice, smoky and warm
her hands soft and comfortable
in his hand.
Her tears, wet and salty,
his cupped palm catching them
and her laughter.
They were the final gifts
to one another on goodbye,
hands together and
sharing laughter,
smoky tears...
fears were washed away.
©DWE092013
Written by
Ottar
where you will find me
(where you will find me)
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