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Replying to a comment on:
The Struggling Poet's Lament (Free verse) by Ranger
So beautiful, that baffled moon
Who watched my gentle hands - quiet
In low-lit room move, exploring
Soft sweeps across such pale skin
Your body bared in honesty
Smooth lines shown - all unashamed
Then deftly flowed red silken dress
Volcano ripple in reverse
Extravagance shone, golden-trimmed
To cover over canvas frame
Slip on lace glove, then summer hat
I line your eyes and brush your lips
An idol of adultery
I look again
To notice threads which snake behind
Like lazy flies, a drunken waltz
A crooked hem, a button gone
And in the heavy candle glow
I stumble like the pregnant flame
Wishing mine was Master craft
The tailor's mind of genius
For the seamstress cannot dress herself
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