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Sep 2018
Yellow, and waxy smooth in shape they spiral down
The color of banana peels and rubber ducks,
Not enough to crunch,
Just the occasional skittering sounds from an accidental nudge
Of a laced up black boot.
It’s all lit up by pouring color
Painting the world pale gold and dusty blue,
Dimpled footprints across dusty sand,
Perhaps foreshadowing of future eons of crushed cement.

Evoking an image of rusted door hinges and creaking sheds,
Orange drips from ripened fruit,
Dappled dry reds of a curling leaf or faded velvet skirt.

And down below and oil painting of bottle green glass and soft leather,
Glinting and undulating in a translucent serenity.

Paint turns to pastel further out,
Smooth hints of pink on touches of sighing blue and perfect cream with lemon zest.

Oddly blending with the metallic rumble of heavy strings,
Thin black wings
And soft fabric on palms,
Warm light and a cool breath.

Interrupted by a jolting movement of a graceful, curious silk spinner,
Who dropped, and frightened the delicate moment away.
Written by
Iskra  a rainy place
(a rainy place)   
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