And what is more?

steam-boat

A hand, simply holding another.

A tin boat without sails
on a racing lake,
using its own internal steam.

A myth, climbing a mountain,
finding a peak bereft
of stood cynics, downed red flags.

An unshakable dam certainty,
after a stallion stampede
of day and nightmares.

A set of honest answers, after
a unexpectedly open question.

A finger, touching
an opposing, adaptable thumb.

A sneak hug from a loved one.

A song, where you already know
all the words; it makes you sing.

A knowledge, of when to write
the full-stop, and when more’s
that spark to begin.

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