The Poetry Dancer
Stars twinkling
at night, doth bring
warm, fetching
this surreal passion
of slithering feet
doing the quick step
in moon stroke music
Ah, the smell of
lemon rinds and touch
of wild jasmine
swirling, inside me, yet I’m
too timid, to voice out
like a canvass
left untouched, by a brush
Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2008
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