Perfection of Barefeet
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Perfection of Barefeet Poem


When the music fades
Grass turns brown
Dew refuses to fall
Turbines grind away dust
Dawn intermingles with dusk
Black opera sounds at the touch of violins
Maestros dance
Dinner shaved into tumulus creations
Dotted laughter cakes of clay arms folded charging bulls
Dust rising from a forgotten graveyard airs up the tunnel
© Chaotic Soul of a Poet
Maira Gall