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Agility
Arms outstretched, she glides like whispered air,
Gossamer dreams sewn in each silent spin.
In her stillness, storms of feeling flare,
Lilting through Tchaikovsky's aching hymn.
Ivory wings, her body bends, then flies,
Tears in the toes, yet poise in every part—
Yearning swan, both prisoner and art.
An acrostic on boy:
Born with wonder in his bright, bold eyes,
Over hills he dreams to run and rise,
Yearning for truth beneath open skies.
Copyright ©
Jay Narain
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