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Bliss

When I see you walking, I want to hold your hand.

If I held your hand, I would seek a dance.

If we were dancing, I would look into your eyes.

If our eyes connected, I would sing to you.

And that song would be stifled by your lips.

My eyes would close, but I’d see bliss.

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It's been a while since I posted a poem. So much irritation subdued in frustration. The creative bell rings less often when these distractions soften the blows to vibration and stifled timing. Here I