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Cradled Tiny hands entwined in mine, fingers touched upon my lips. Deeply breathe the pulse of life and love. Cradled in the fragrance of innocence and need... now washed, now weathered by the tides backdrops made of colored hues now walked upon, then shaped by fine white sand that blows the grains of time cast to the wind. To move beyond as time demands, tiny fingers grasp large hands. Deeply breathe the pulse of life and love. |
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