A Dance that Glimmers and Glares

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Lashes do fan,

Do fan fan da flamico style,

How they flicker and flirt,

like wings flapping against your cheek

giving teases of a gentile sort.

Just to fan fan away like a tango

Skirt.

Flashing leg, I mean hazelnut eyes.

Daring you to embrace,

But your arms are lost to the hairs that fall to a

Blink.

I mean to the brink of a night where the stars are saying

Fly fly, nod off stamp those lashes down.

And like a broom they wait.

Bristles forgotten on the floor.

Gathering nights dust.

Like the morning-after mascara of your clumping disgrace.

Twitching only to remember the cha cha-ing of your

Seductive fluttering legs,

I mean eyelashes.

Which started this mess.

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An Ode to Slippers

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Hugs, marshmallows, clouds and feathers,

I step upon them

all in all

weathers.

Hidden inside, afraid to spoil,

woollen woven hooves

snuggled safe from recoil.

Six pairs have I,

though one late dead

from heavy heels and,

thoughts; weighted down my treads.

So five remain, all waiting,

for my toes to enter

like eggs returning to nest

too delicate to wander.

And like a gander I waddle, cocksure,

in my slippers

sure never to feel rough ground or stone

just carpets and fur together are sewn.