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Woman Of Art

 

Without words, but not without silk  
a dance, a sundown sweeps  
dashing dragons - scales of falling leaves
low soaring in a golden autumn glow  
koto plucking fingers flow  
 
The kimono bestows her  
a frame of winter frost  
frail forearms chambered into sleeves  
lines of brocade pine trees  
their needles bare of snow  
 
Moonshadow muses  
and a choice infusion, verdant, a spring  
showcased through steam  
Lips pursed - petals rouge  
cheeks pressed white  
green pressed tea
 
Midsummer now  
to sated men;  
clutching cups of little hot springs  
with their own air to breathe
 
 
Written by AtoMikbomb
Published
Author's Note
In honor of the geisha. I attempted a seasonal undercurrent as well.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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