painted feet
Was there ever a time
when we spoke without rhyme
or danced without painted feet
in times we dared not repeat?
Did ever a moment of peace
not evoke an image of earthly release
and do we remember that rivers
flowed into driad pools
that sent shivers
down a strange spine
sweeter than the red wine
that passes the lips of fools
who see the world as a store
of self-interest.
This poem was written by Orpheus . on Jan 12, 2008.
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