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This most beautiful flight,
Arms close, tight to the body,
hands are gentle, as if holding gifts.
Fingers grip invisible keys,
Though the eyes are closed, they see the lights and the color of sound.
Yes, beneath heavy lids the cauldrons roll,
Memories, forged as tones drone, will never be shared.
Perhaps they will even be forgotten.
The soft-shoe sidestep shuffling slowness, nothing like my pinwheel advertisements, draws my heart like mothlight.
Secretly, I love.
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