Aiming for a creative life

I Am Santo

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Smooth and rounded,
as if gel molded
into kind forms
hugging small heat and light,
they rest among motes of dust
as confused days spin
around them.

Slid into line,
they await invitation
to welcome with glimmering dim,
warmth spreading in a flicker
of slipping air swirled
about hurried business.

Daylight’s kiss flirts
for attention,
contrast reminding
so that struck matches may alight,
curtsying, an hour’s glow,
combatting darkness
as if day with gentler hues.

Orange embrace awaits,
a lone dancer on a dark,
quiet floor
searching for a partner
in the night.

Any stepping from the line
the same as the next,
all capable
of shuddering splendor,
minds and hands fall absent
and another morning breaks

To see what's what in the world of Santo

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