snow touches with love the forest trees and fields and every single thing with his cold fingers, and covers them all with a white blanket, whispering, now go to sleep...
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it is not the word, it is where the word touches you
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we are the cavemen of the future
black wires insulated with white snow
frosted layers
a cake of briefest memories
lost in an ocean of trivia, one snowflake touches another
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PURE LOVE COMES FROM THE HEART AND NEVER TOUCHES THE EGO.
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Life is a plot on a Cartesian plane. At first it touches, at last the horizontal axis
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If anyone touches my coffee, I'll yawn at them!
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Life isn't about material things, it's about quality v. quantity. It's not about giving the most lavish gifts or trying to prove you earned somebody's attention. Life is about the time you give someone and the quality of that time. At the end of the day, the best gift you can ever give someone, knowingly or not, is your time; because it's the one thing you can give someone but never take back. You are giving them a part of your life that can never be regained, and that's what touches hearts.
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Poetry is an oral art form, when a poem is recited aloud(preferably by the poet) a unique 'as is moment' occurs with the listener.
NOTE:This is much thevsame as happens each time one views/touches a work of art.
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