Born in places far apart were we, Two fragile souls in tender play; We laughed beneath the mother’s tree, Her gentle gaze would guard our day. Each spring that came, we learned to stray, And then return along the way. The strength we grasped while on the ground Was fleeting—but in it, pride was found. One August day, at last we met, Our hands first touched—our hearts were set; We knew, at once, our halves drew near. A crown of blooms, of olive white, We swore, beneath the softening light, To walk as one through joy and tears.
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