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Her dance by Sayan Basak

She dances,

through the looking glass,

the pearly lights of sun’s hot breath,

the fever of heat,

drawing sweat,

from the depths of her bones.

 

She dances,

through the dandelion meadow,

through the waist high grass,

the gentle kiss of summer wind,

caressing her,

like silk over freshly bathed skin,

the ocean over a parched body.

 

She dances,

through the infinite mountains,

reaching into the endless sky,

fingertips against cotton candy clouds,

soft and pure as a fluffy kitten,

as a sleeping puppy.

 

She dances,

knowing no boundaries,

knowing no time is real,

knowing only the grit of sand,

slipping through her toes,

and the scent of lilacs,

close to her nose,

the taste of mango over soft lips.

 

She dances,

with bliss beneath her waving hands,

and freedom beneath her feet.

 

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