| Open Poetry #37 |
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Blind Dancers |
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bubblesleave Member
since 2006-03-04
Posts 197Bloomington, IN
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They see black and white, you see; can't write prose or poetry. Quiet content, quiet serene, believing red and orange are green. For them, the drum's strong measured beat: A snare for flying graceful feet. Still, they dance across the page; "Mere children on an ancient stage". |
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