'Tis the human touch in this world that counts. The touch of your hand and mine means far more to the fainting heart than shelter and bread and wine; for shelter is gone when the night is o'er, and bread lasts only a day, but the touch of a hand and the sounds of the voice sing on in the soul always.
-Spencer Michael Free
-Spencer Michael Free
shelleypotts.xyz
spotty4@hotmail.com