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Burgundy

In ruby-hued satin, she pirouettes alone, Her form a silhouette against the tone Of evening's blush, where shadows softly play, Amidst the burgundy that wraps her frame at bay. With every step, the fabric billows wide, A skirt of old-money elegance inside, Yet her bare skin glistens like polished stone, Ethereal, untainted, utterly her own. Her arms, entwined, create a pose of grace, A Botticelli vision in a modern space, As if the nymphs of ancient lore had come, To dance and twirl, unbound by mortal thumb. Time stands still in this suspended scene, Where art and life entwine, a sanguine dream, Of freedom's fleeting nature and its hold, On hearts that beat within a living mold. She is a vision born of color, light, And the intoxicating thrill of unbridled might, A fleeting moment preserved in embered thought, Of a woman bold, in radiance untaught.

Echoes of a Lanterned Past

Echoes of a Lanterned Past

A nostalgic journey through the charm of antiquity, where lanterns illuminate the night and Shakespeare's legacy enlivens the soul.




In the hush of twilight, lanterns glowed,
Flickering whispers of stories untold,
Wooden wagons, sturdy as the earth,
Rolled through the cobblestone, steeped in mirth.

Horses snorted, rhythm of hooves like heartbeats,
While laughter danced, interweaving with the beats,
Each shadow cast a tapestry of dreams,
Beneath starlit canopies, the world gleams.

Shakespeare's quill inked the essence of night,
Words spun like silk, taking flight in the light,
His voice, a symphony, weaving fate and lore,
Echoing through the ages, forever adored.

The stage adorned with moonlight's silver lace,
Actors emerged, conjured in time and space,
Each line a lantern, each pause a breath,
In the stillness of night, defying death.

From distant lands, their tales would arrive,
To warm the hearts and keep the spirit alive,
As lanterns swayed, memories intertwined,
In every traveler's soul, a world defined.

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