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Dance
Flame's flicker above the hot opaue wax.
While shawdow's dance across my yellow pad.
The fire, the flame, pulls me in with a silent spell
of enticement.
I cannot dance in the dark as sexy and quite as you.
But, I will watch from a distance... your pyro glow.
GREAT WORK .
I just made my stop again at your page. This poem is a good one too. Dancing will heal. :)
Great to be back
Ozjan