Weighs like it and behaves like it too
For ever so often like brass it tends to dull
When one touches it a tad too often
It is human after all and the mind is restless
Hopping from pillar to post, often helpless
Like brass, love needs polish, and often much
Love would then flourish, in the scarcity of touch
Absence then should be a great redeemer
Polishing love, to shine and shimmer
Like brass in the hands of a mindful soul
Polished and perfected to shine like gold
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