I love to feel hands.
I loved my grandpas hands.
yes.
so different.
bales of hay.
milking.
building fences,
just different.
I remember them crossed in the coffin.
I touched them.
They were still the same,
but cold.
I loved my grandpas hands.
yes.
so different.
bales of hay.
milking.
building fences,
just different.
I remember them crossed in the coffin.
I touched them.
They were still the same,
but cold.
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i thought i was the only one who had a thing with hands.