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going

as silent hands
remember touch –
a fragile cup of joy
as carried once
across the depths
of time

reminders
of each sorrow
held us near to love
treasure
far too sweet
for one to hold

in seasons of
together
from close – a distance none
is lost to these
who gave of light
away

beyond the knowing
meant for sight
a truth that needs
not seed
I carry still
another me somehow

conceived
of something greater
than want
to understand
how fleeting
we –
a moment saved
to love

. . .