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Sheen in the Afterglow
A silver brush stroke
turns rose thorns into blossoms,
fangs into white shells
lion roar hums you befriend~
while shadows follow your feats
mist makes a palace
where puddles and weeds had been
you drink the shimmer~
never asking what lies shrill
behind the painted curtain.
the day peels scene back
the crown, only thorns in sun
shows what's becoming~
smoothing the frown from your brow,
following in afterglow
Copyright ©
John Anderson
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