Silhouette

Jan 25

She poses for a silhouette,

Alas, but not a daguerreotype,

A heart, beset, a soul so ripe.

Her palette dabbed with shades of mirth,

Her spirit too alive to tame,

A tint of earth, a spark of flame.

A pool of amber for her eyes,

Her lips the rose of cabernet,

Her hair, it flies on ebon spray.

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