Dance, no stop. The pigment of the ancient,
it past. Frozen in time upon the wall

She left to gaze upon the world
as the clock chimes across the hall

Wings covered in blue dust
An inner golden flakes spread thin within,
shadows portrayed the life held,
A bird lost in forest, as the black hues

Combine with the blues,
bones of a painting poignant yet pure
Will temperatures be preserved in a warming lure?