Tis true, tis true, the rhyming art
clouds the mind and tugs the heart.
The sketches smudged with myth and lore
that begs to be recalled once more.
The canvas drips splotched rhythmic spew
lost legends from a poets view.
In galleries not, our musings framed
tho on each one, the dreamers named.
Tis true, obsessed illusions toll
doth bind the heart, the mind and soul!

Willow Dancer
10 - 08 - 03



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