The fleeting brush of time and space
leaves behind a quiet trace.
A hand extended barely there,
a fleeting moment we both share.
Through fleeting touch a world begins,
the light shines brighter from within.
We hold the pieces, never whole,
quiet fire that fills the soul.
Through whispered winds the echoes call,
reminders of the rise and fall.
Each fragile bond a fleeting thread,
woven from the lives we've led.
A moment held in silent grace,
forever etched with candor race.
Through fleeting touch a world begins,
the light shines brighter from within.
We hold the pieces, never whole,
quiet fire that fills the soul.
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