The Reading of my soul in the palm of your hand
As you gazed upon my hand you some how peered deep in side my sole.
How can this be?
I don’t understand what makes these connections in us.
How can this be?
You read away as if the words of my life are printed on my hand.
How can this be?
The universe has so much to offer and we understand as in a beach of many miles only one grain of sand.
How can this be?
By Fred Sharpsteen
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