A timid touch,
a thousand thoughts.
No words; words are hardly possible.

A mere finger-brush, really;
feather-light
and infinitely fleeting.

He thinks his thoughts, she hers,
as the sun sets.
As the sun rises,
they think theirs.

A warm, firm clasp, truly;
soft and strong
and infinitely beautiful.

A tender touch,
ten thousand thoughts.
No words; words are hardly needed.

          hand in hand they rise,
          together turn to face the sun.
          and hand in hand begin to walk
          together down the road.

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