Not in hands that are folded
And eyes that are cold
But in our touch
And in our feeling.
Not in tears too quickly
Dried from our eyes
But in our sight
And in our understanding.
Not in minding our manners
And accepting our lies
But in our mouths
And in our speaking.
Not in schedules, routines
We spend our lives in keeping
But in ourselves
And in our being.
Written by Barbara Rose
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