Author Richard Rensberry

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Touch and Grace

If I Were hand,

I could smooth a crease

from your worried face.  I could

grasp what you hate

and hold it away

out of your reach.  I could

glide you across the kitchen floor

while Neil Young strums his blue guitar.

If I were a hand, I’d touch your waist.

I’d caress your cheek with touch and grace.

I’d pull you close and never let go.

If I were a hand, I’d lift your soul.

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