Fingers of Touch

The morning dew kisses my bare feet,

Each drop a cool whisper, soft and sweet.

The sun’s warm embrace wraps around my skin,

Like a gentle hug, inviting me in.


Rough bark presses against my palm,

Its texture a story, ancient and calm.

Silk petals brush against my cheek,

Delicate whispers that make me weak.


The sand slips through my fingers like time,

In this tactile dance, everything feels sublime.



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