Happy Birthday, Desirée!

For the occasion, I'll include a cinquain poem I wrote some time ago, long before I met Dezi or even before David met Dezi:
Living
without your hand
in mine is to survive
a tortured shell, a beating heart, alive
but dead.
without your hand
in mine is to survive
a tortured shell, a beating heart, alive
but dead.
For a special treat, follow the wedding plans.
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