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Click hereYour deft cane creases my flesh
and I bleed my arrogance.
Echoes of creation beat
fiery waves against my skin.
My wandering thoughts pour out
into endless nothingness.
You penetrate and I soar
to what seems an astral plane.
Everything connects in love,
you are the rough but true hand
I, the torn and tender glove.
This tickles my imagination to envision more than one interpretation. Perhaps you didn't intend that, sandy, but I like that in a poem.