Notice the quick, quiet strength
of a perfectly performed grand jeté.
Clean, icy water lashing over smooth pebbles,
the urgency of a hushed stream.
A deep,
lonely pool of blue water,
decorated with jutting
rocks and speckles of sun,
then moonlight.
The tentative ritual of lioness
tending her cub,
her placidity as it pounces and plays on her
heat-wearied body.
Lines that now litter once smooth faces.
© Millie M
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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