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Degas DancerThe little dancer, Face upturning, Floats in circles, Lightly sways, As the music She encounters, Catches, holds And leads her on. She just smiles, And gently tosses Her dainty, pretty, Pulled back hair. Timeless movement, Pain and pleasure, It's perfection That she strives! Joy Weare. 13th February, 2005. Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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