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There are so many beautiful things about love

I have run out of fingers on which to count them

My fingers are vital when it comes to love. I need

Them to write of my passion and my longing and

To pay for a dozen red roses at a till that requires

My fingers to enter a pin number that only I and

My bank know of so that funds may flow from my

Bank account into that of the flower seller



A night of passion bathed in love, too quickly

Slips away, your perfume lingers still my dear

Oh, how I wished you'd stay. Without fingers I

Would be at a loss to write and furthermore

How would our hands meet? How would I steady

Myself down on one knee prior to taking a small

Box from my pocket opening it and with a rock

Sparking in the moonlight place it on her finger?



Without fingers what kind of a lover would I be?

Without touch how would I touch where invited to

Touch and moreover, how would a woman know

Of my love for her? The trembling fingers that speak

More than words can say tracing love where love

May be traced moonlight pleasures, starlit dreams

Dreams that last not just for one night – but every

Night thereafter

© Joseph G Dawson

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