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The Joining
With our fingers entwined,
We do not mind,
Where we might be,
Or who might see,
How much we care,
How much we share,
This closeness so comfy,
For him and for me,
Here now on show,
Saying, I love you so.
So let's tell the world,
With our fingers curled
Within each other's hand,
That this joining was planned.
And we'll travel as one,
Into the setting sun.
poem
by
Ernestine Northover
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