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I can spend a thousand minutes
caressing you with my brush,
and though tomorrow you will again   be
a blank canvas
I will paint you again another way
perhaps remembering
perhaps forgetting
your beauty at this magical moment.

You have spent a lifetime
caressing me with your fingers,
and though tomorrow I will again   be
You will mold me again in another form
always remembering
always forgetting
my beauty and ugliness at this magical moment.