Once every hour
Of the day that is our lives
The hands of the clock touch
Entwined, as one, they rest
Experiencing together a moment
Pure and relaxing, of unity and love.
But the moment ends
And hands are rent asunder
Unsure if they shall meet again
Ere the clock stops.
But for that moment, that isolated
Minute of perfect contentment
And harmony, they know love.
If it comes to pass that
They should meet again, where will each be?
They meet at different times, in different places,
But each knows the other for what they are,
Were and will be.
Each knows love.
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