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Rated: E · Poetry · Spiritual · #1060722
Reborn every day.
fast like razors
gold-dipped, dripping with
every
right
thing
to say

old like music
in round, blunt-edged tongues
like rolled, eroded stones

broad like sunrise
sneaky, slick little
pink hands slipping up,
then arms of flame,
prism nimbus,
and then the white-blind raptured smile
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1060722-Phoenix