No one thought much
of that first touch
The warmth of the hand
we understand
When old souls greet
and the eyes meet
we understand
That there is no end
the eyes recognize
We are the prize
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Thank you for reading my blog The pages within may have you running for grog Some started as letters that turned into poem Others are stories with a life of their own Time spent will not go to waste In the crisp mountain air the fire gains height Warmth and comfort on a heavenly night
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