goldenlangur Posted May 12, 2009 Share Posted May 12, 2009 Dancing (prose poem) High on a stone ledge by the leaded windows, she balances, her back in an arch, tummy to the ceiling. Beside her, a painted, wooden figure marches to her steps. Empty of paintings, photographs and calendars, the walls are awash with light. They move to the dawn chorus and a melody of long ago. 19.4.8. goldenlangur Quote goldenlangur Even a single enemy is too many and a thousand friends too few - Bhutanese saying. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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