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Arms float like dandelion tuffs,
Riding the current of the music as it floods the room with
I take the blues and the violets,
Painting the air
With the flight of my fingertips.
I let them mingle with the
Allowing my legs to become my words
And my movement an instrument for emotion.
Muscles pulse behind a veil of
Priceless grace,
Tainting the motion with a lens of effortlessness.
And soon my hips join in the
Engaged in art as they wind the curving staircase to
It’s a freedom all my own,
Saving my soul from the taxing handcuffs of
Where I can slip my toes along the palette
Of every pigment that makes
My dance
A work of art.

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